


Alduin's Bane

by trickstarbrave



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Blood, F/M, Human Alduin (Elder Scrolls), Immortality, Lore Bastardization, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Reincarnation, Worship, not quite canon compliant, slight dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickstarbrave/pseuds/trickstarbrave
Summary: The start of the Dragon War truly began when Miraak found Alduin’s weakness, and only truly ended when Alduin was flung forward in time. On the other side, forward in future, there is a certain Dragonborn that reminds him far too much of the past.
Relationships: Alduin/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Touch

**Author's Note:**

> no i have no idea what i'm doing, and i will make this everyone else's problem : ) 
> 
> for real though please enjoy

Alduin. First born of Akatosh. Most splendid in creation. A force no one could conquer. A being who existed to destroy mundus and every life on it, who instead watched over it, and shaped it to his will. A god-king of the highest form, praised for his strength, his feats, his all consuming power that made mortals tremble and fall to their knees. 

No matter the petty squabbles of mortals, this would still be so. He was an immortal being who could destroy them as he saw fit, a dragon who others bowed before. The World-Eater and ruler who would never fall.

Still somehow, boredom crept in. Rebellions were silenced relatively fast, and mortal survivors scattered. His army could take them all from the sky with ease, and his cult kept an iron grip.

Perhaps this fact and his unusually good humor was to blame, but when the priests met in Bromjunaar with an interesting mortal, he took interest.

A mortal who they claimed had great skill over the thuum. It was not something taught to mortals, yet here was one paraded around who had not mastered one shout, but several. There was only one other who had a similar skill, the powerful and loyal dragon priest Miraak of Solstheim.

Miraak attempted to step in claiming he could train her a bit and perhaps better understand their condition, but the other priests were skeptical. Only by being named a priest herself would she be allowed that type of collaboration and study, lest the power and secrets of the dragon cult be used by anyone with a rebellious spirit. They seemed in agreement, and Miraak stepped down with grace from speaking.

Alduin watched, amused. The scent of her was much like Miraak, strange and foreign like a mortal, but somehow different. The spark of the energy around her as it moved across the air felt like a dragon who wished any moment to take flight, restless. In her eyes the spark different from other priests and mortals save Miraak. They were certainly one in the same.

Yet the process to become a priest was not so easy. True devotion needed to be shown, and as such, a priest in training who had learned from writings and walls had to serve a dragon until the dov felt their loyalty was secured, their rebellious and foolish mortal spirit broke in properly as to not abuse their gifts.

Alduin rose up, swooping down closer to the discussion. In reverence, the priests kneeled and praised him with calls of devotion, hymns, and prayers. 

“I will train the mortal.” Alduin spoke. The air about him was hot purposefully, and the gust of hot wind blew past the joor not even wearing a mask to withstand it, yet she did not fold; she simply remained kneeling in reverence. 

Alduin had never trained a priest himself, and at once the priests were abuzz with confusion and questions of what it meant. Their trainees at a distance seemed nearly panicked and envious. Miraak was an oddity, but two, especially at the same time, were not a coincidence. He needed to know if this kind of mortal was a threat. 

Still, no one could really question his motivation or decision. He was their king and god. His word was final, unchanging, unmoving. If he said the trainee was his, the mortal was his. They nodded in acceptance.

The other agendas came up for discussion, of which Alduin ultimately cared little for. Laws for joor were complicated and boring, but so long as tribute was delivered and the priests and other believers active in worship remained, the dov cared little. 

Back in his lair near Skuldafn, he waited. The priests had their own rituals to conduct, but finally they made their trek across the land, across the temple where Nahkriin let them pass. 

The joor was clothed simply, and as part of the priests rituals, most of the joor scent washed away. It would come back, as it always did, but Alduin moved to look at the mortal before him. Kneeling, trembling, in what he could not tell was fear or reverence. It filled him with glee regardless. 

Mortal scent cleaned, the scent of dov became stronger. It was small, distant, with each shaky exhale of breath, but it was distinct. It reminded him of a secret form many dov did not share with mortals, of the ways they could, if necessary, take a form of flesh similar to joor without the typical mortal weaknesses. Their scents were distinct from the mortals among them, though the mortals could not tell them apart. It was degrading, however, as there was no flight, no dignity, and no point to changing a divine body.

He left her there likely a touch too long, before telling her to rise. Finally standing, legs still weak, he looked her over again. Eyes with a light in them still, that wanted to dart to take in his form, yet seemed to avert just before they could fully rest on him. 

“Follow.” It was a short command, but she did as he asked. Finally near a large pool, he began to climb in, only so careful as to not knock her into the water and drown her. She seemed good at dodging his apendanges for the most part at least. 

“Bathe me.” It was a show of respect among dov, something a junior would do to a superior, or a joor would do for a dov. She nodded, and wadded into the water that came up to her waist with a cloth, and began the process of cleaning him.

Her hands were slow, methodical, cleaning around the scales. They spiked at awkward angles, yet with a surprisingly gentle touch around their flexible forms, got behind them. 

His eye watched her carefully as she cleaned, his head still. His gaze was predatory and analytical. With ease he could open his mouth and tear her in two, and devour her. Yet she didn’t seem perturbed by it. She was focused on the task, only on occasion trembling from the chill, eyes on occasion meeting one of his and then turning away quickly.

Finally finished for the most part, he left the water, silent, as she followed. The other priests left her necessities she needed, made up of animal skins and fur, but she quickly changed as soon as he dismissed her, into drier furs, using the thuum to warm herself.

An interesting thing. It would keep him from being bored for a few months. Maybe he’d find out what exactly she was.

—

The mortal seemed to get comfortable faster than Alduin anticipated. No longer did she tremble before him, but instead greeted him properly. 

Well, properly wasn’t quite the right term. Her eyes glowed brightly with an emotion he could not place, and her face was far from the stoicism of typical devotees. Her hands were quick to wash the blood from his maw after battle, using a certain softness combined with confidence around his face Alduin could not place.

He thought it was arrogance, at first, and blew hot air at her in the bath. Not scalding hot but a warning most men ran from in fear. Mortals did not like the heat, the threat of flames, unlike the way dovah would greet one another.

A soft sound escaped as the water rippled from the force around her, before quickly erupting in giggles. 

Why did she laugh? She was in no position for mockery, and didn’t seem to be condescending, not positioned right in front of his maw like this, smaller than the prey he usually killed with ease. 

“What are you doing?” He questioned, and she made a considerable effort to still herself out of respect. 

“I-I don’t know my king.” She looked only mildly remorseful.

“Why do you laugh?” His voice rumbled in his throat against the stone floor of the pool, traveling up her legs. The mortal still didn’t look intimidated.

“Your breath felt nice.”

“Nice?”

“The water can be cool but it was refreshing and nice to feel heat on your breath, my king.” She continued cleaning him as though nothing was wrong, like he didn’t just threaten her, like fire from his breath couldn’t turn into more than a singed corpse.

Somehow, he knew she was serious. And that made him want to kill her less.

—

The mortal laid in the sleeping roll of furs comfortably, as Alduin entered. Normally he would be disgruntled that a mortal did not wake up to greet and worship him, but after returning from Sovngarde filled with souls, perhaps he was feeling generous. Besides, joor needed sleep, unlike dragons who slept only when they felt like it. They needed sleep, and water, and food, and light, like the little delicate prisons of flesh they were.

Her hands were hanging out of the bag, onto the fur from one of his kills she had cleaned. He didn’t know why she wanted it, but he permitted her to keep it. Even walking in she didn’t seem disturbed at all, slumbering deeply.

He moved closer, and closer still, till he could use his long neck to peer over her. Even then, he laid it down on the ground, comparing their sizes. His maw still could nearly fit her inside in one bite, and he wondered how such a stupid creature were still alive considering the world eater could simply roll her into his mouth and end her life, or turn her to cinders and charcoal in an instance before she even woke up.

He scoffed. Why did he care? Let the clueless joor sleep tonight. She was lucky he was full, or she would be dead. She was lucky he hadn’t ended this world and instead lorded over it so generously. Little mortals like her, nords running about in the freezing cold, needing to eat and sleep and were so helpless, were lucky they were useful. So he moved away and left to curl up in his lair, watching. 

After he moved, her hand twitched, and her head lulled to the side. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely clueless, she could clearly sense he was there, but a saber cat wouldn’t have been as compassionate as one born of Akatosh and would have killed her where she laid. 

Foolish. 

—

He enjoyed the excuse this joor gave him. Petty politics of the dragon priests was annoying, and the fact he had a mortal he was training meant not listening in and instead having his underlings do it. If humans who fancied themselves rebels got too cocky and it needed his attention, he’d be told. Otherwise his lieutenants took care of it easily. 

Teaching her more words was interesting. Dovah existed knowing every word, but watching her stumble to make a thu'um was laughable. When it came to rituals, she did them fine enough, giving praise for him.

Somehow it stroked his ego more than usual. Maybe this was why other dov enjoyed training their priests. 

At night though, his habit of watching the joor did not stop. She tossed and turned, until she gripped onto the leather and furs with a whimper, and quickly fell back asleep curled up. This was a regular occurance, and her habit of collecting more pelts from his kills grew. At this point he tried to save as much of the pelt he could because she would inevitably ask, so long as it was smaller than a mammoth.

He didn’t understand joor.

Alduin decided, out of mere curiosity, to enter his lesser form. He shook and stretched, laying against the floor. The scales slid and moved around him, his spikes diminishing, until he was left looking like nothing but a man. 

He approached, and she still didn’t stir, hands on the furs. He stood next to her, before kneeling down, and she still didn’t move.

How stupid could a mortal be? His hand moved out on its own, over her throat. It didn’t apply pressure, simply resting on it, to see if she would stir. Maybe if he did choke her when she awoke she would take her own life seriously. 

Her neck was warm, delicate, tendons just under the flesh; held up by thin muscle and a spine that could easily be snapped. He applied a faint bit of pressure, watching the way her skin bloomed a slight shade of pink. She stirred a bit, and his hand instead glided across the skin up to her jaw, marveling and how strange it felt. He rarely used this form, and even more rarely touched a mortal's flesh. Alduin scarcely recalled not killing someone the moment his hand met their body, ripping them to pieces.

Her eyes finally fluttered open confused, before her eyebrows furrowed and her body tensed. Her mouth opened, likely to shout in surprise or fear, but Alduin’s hand merely covered her lips tightly, his other hand moving to her throat again. 

“Silence.” It was rough, gravely, but not aggressive. He liked the silence of this, of the mortal’s body simply under him, the way her skin felt. She attempted to struggle before the hand on her throat tightened just enough so he could feel how loudly her pulse drummed. “ _ Cease _ , joor.” This time his voice held more of an edge to it, and she stopped. As he let go, she trembled and whimpered like an injured animal. 

Was she cold? He had exposed more of her body than he thought peeling back the sleeping roll and furs she was in. He didn’t like the way she trembled, but he didn’t want to stop either, so instead he sucked in a deep breath, blowing hot air over her.

The mortal tensed, and trembled, before her voice leaked out of her slightly strained throat. “Al.. duin?” 

He merely nodded, going back to stroking his hands along her. Mortals knew their forms could change, though only from brief descriptions and rumors. It served to make the mortals paranoid, in fear they might say something wrong when one of their rulers could overhear. It was a good tactic, though few lived to tell the tale of how a particular dragon looked in the flesh of a man. 

His hands continued to move, and she quickly went lax, her breathing evening out. He moved down, blowing hot air against her again, closer to her skin, and watched it erupt in gooseflesh as she squirmed slightly. It wasn’t out of his hold, but she clutched uon to the furs tightly. 

He didn’t know why, but he chuckled briefly, his teeth moving down to her throat. He simply rested them there, near the side, yet she still tilted her head back allowing him more room. A large smirk plastered over his face as it felt like a fire had been lit in his stomach with pride. The mortal was submitting to him the way dovah did, and it was always a stroke to his ego, but somehow, it felt different now. Many times he had pressed his sharp teeth to a dov’s throat as they exposed it in submission, yet it never felt quite like this.

“Good.” He responded, after sliding his sharp teeth down her neck, just shy of slicing her, showing her just how inhuman he was. He then, to highlight his praise, ran his tongue up her throat where his teeth met to sooth it.

She moaned, head turning to the side fully, not quite in pain, and Alduin felt his body jolt. He hungered. He didn’t know what for, as the idea of spilling this mortal’s blood until she was left a cold corpse was not appealing, but he  _ hungered _ . 

He went to where her neck and shoulders met, a less lethal spot, and sank his teeth in. It wasn’t too deep—careful of how delicate joor were—but she still cried out, hands quickly on him. He was almost annoyed, until he realized they weren’t trying to pry him off, simply trying to claw him even closer.

He moaned back, the sound rumbling in his throat as he removed his teeth, lapping at the wound he left. He loved the way it bruised, how he could look forward to seeing it on her later. He went to the other side, her head tilting again to allow him room as he nipped and sucked, leaving more and more marks along the other side, and milking more and more sounds out of her throat. 

“Alduin…!” She whined, and he growled. He wanted to immediately scold her for speaking his name that carelessly, yet somehow he couldn’t. She was normally careful of that, only singing high praises for him, and now…

Akatosh, why did he enjoy that sound? 

He moved up to her ears next, mostly using his tongue around the much thinner skin and cartilage, listening to another whine as her body writhed. Alduin disliked the kneeling position, instead laying his body out over hers, pulling the furs further away. A hand then gripped her thigh, running up the flesh.

“My name,” He began, his own voice coming out more labored than he had anticipated, “Again.” He commanded.

“Alduin!” She did as he commanded with glee, and he gripped her thigh tightly so she couldn’t squirm away from him.

“Again.” His other hand had moved up the thin cloth tunic she wore to sleep, up her chest. There, he could feel her ribs move, breathing in and out in quick pants, along with the quick beating of her heart. 

“Alduinnn…” She dragged out the last syllable desperately, trying to bury her face into the fur below her.

He growled again as the fire grew. His tongue slid down her neck as he pulled himself closer. She had turned over, moving so she was on her side in all her squirming, but Alduin kept a firm hold on her, simply moving so he laid behind her, able to grab and touch her as he pleased. 

He felt almost possessed, wondering what was coming over him, before his hips pressed closer and he hissed. 

Divines, he had forgotten this body could, if desired, eat and sleep more like a mortal, but he hadn’t anticipated his body desired mating like a joor did. 

Desired was the wrong word perhaps, as he gripped her thigh tighter, grinding against her. Dovah rarely hungered like  _ this _ for food or sleep. They did not need them to survive, and could not produce offspring so mating was not necessary. Why had Akatosh then allowed it like this? Created him, a perfect being, with a hunger not just for domination and mundus’ destruction, but for a joor woman to moan like this?

He moaned again, leaving another mark with his teeth. He even, breaking the haze over his brain, felt fear that he could snap a bone gripping her so tight, so his hands instead went to grip the furs as well. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , he felt sweet release from the friction at last. One arm was wrapped around her, as his body trembled, growling with pure pleasure. 

Silence followed, save for panting breath. His mind felt hazy in a way he hadn’t felt before. Blissful, even. He then sat up, looking her over.

Bruises had started forming from the grip of his hands, and marks from his teeth were left around her throat. The mere sight brought him immense pride, as he stroked the large bite mark at her shoulder.

Yes, she was his to mark up as he pleased. She should feel honored the world eater did this—that she was held in his jaws and lived. That she was under his command like this, that she even  _ saw  _ this form.

He moved off her, smirking with pride, and shifted back to his normal form. Eventually, she attempted to curl up under the furs, still panting slightly.


	2. Priest

Mortals had names, but their human name was usually replaced upon being named a dragon priest. 

Belly full from Sovngarde once more, relaxing while she sat far closer than most mortals dared, he finally asked. 

“Give me your name.” It had been months, but “mortal”, while still accurate, wasn’t enough. This strange being she was, with a half formed thu’um and lack of tension around a dov, as though she walked and breathed around dovah not unlike a dov’s mortal form left the moniker incomplete. 

A lieutenant reported Miraak had made claims their kind may have a soul closer to a dragon than joor. The other priests looked at him in shock, as he had not said this humbly. The dovah present rumbled at the arrogance. Whispers had erupted, joor wondering if it were true, before the meeting was closed and Miraak sent back to Solsthiem.

He needed to investigate it. Miraak had left for his temple, but a mortal like him lived in his very lair.

“Eyja, my king.” She answered simply. 

“The priest Miraak has made claims you are like him, and that you both possess the soul of a dov.” Eyja looked confused up at him. “Dovahkiin, was the word he used.”

“I…” She always looked too honest with him, a trait he both enjoyed as he hated how secretive Miraak had been acting, and disliked as it proved what a bad priest she may be. If she could not even guard her heart, how would she stand against other mortals? “I don’t know anything about that.”

“I will be checking.” 

“How?” Not that bad of a question for the being who devoured the souls of her kind, but she looked not alarmed enough for his tastes.

“Your scent. And if it seems to be so, I will be going to the tower to hear from my father if it is the truth. But I will see for myself first.” Dovah could only be born of Akatosh, which meant she had to be a creation of his own making as well. “On your back.”

She seemed hesitant, in contrast to the ways she normally submitted to him without question. But she did not hesitate long enough to annoy him, quickly emptying her hands of the joor book, and lying back against the stone floor.

He moved his head down against her. He’d been this close before, in his other form but… Distracted. Instead, he breathed in deeply, exhaling a hot breath that left her shivering, which he tried to ignore. Another, and another, eyes closed as though it was a new dov he was meeting. Like he was trying to feel the power residing in their soul.

He then took in the scent of fire, blazing, and then ozone from flight. He could feel, as he let out a low rumble in his throat that shook her body, the fragmented nature of it, incomplete.

He needed to go to the first tower and confront Akatosh.

Eyja shook under him, and a fire was lit again, for reasons he didn’t know. He raised his head, and changed again, this time nearly on top of her.

It was daylight now, not night. Eyja was wide awake as well, laying prone under him, unsure of what to do.

He moved to her neck, taking in the scent again. Her soul seemed to crave flight just like a dov, and he licked along her neck painfully slowly, tasting her flesh—clearly joor—under him. In response, she bit her lip, whining.

“My, my king…” She whimpered out, almost unsure of what to do. She honestly thought the first time was a dream, and then a fluke when the bruises were still there come morning, but to be experiencing this again…

“My name.” He spoke lowly against her throat, and Eyja felt it tumble down to his chest. “Use it.” He commanded.

“Al-Alduin~” She gasped, arching up against him, earning a moan as the fire inside him started to blaze hotter.

“Eyja.” He had never spoken a joor’s name out like this, but somehow it made this feel all the better. “ _ Eyja _ .” He stressed, enjoying the way it sounded as he began to press up against her again. 

The marks had mostly faded entirely by now, leaving him ill content. He got to quick work making more along her neck through gnashings of his teeth, biting, and sucking along the smooth flesh. Every tremble and whine from her seemed to shoot right through him.

He would be sure to bring this up to Akatosh as well, question him why his body was doing such a thing over a mere mortal. 

But that was later. This, he reminded himself as he dragged his tongue up her throat, was now. 

The stone floor was less than ideal, however, so he pried himself away to stand, dragging the mortal to her feet. She seemed confused and worried, before he quickly picked her up and took her to the pile of furs that now made up her bed. 

Finally someplace better suited, he growled. The desire was even more unbearable than the first time, and he didn’t hesitate trying to expose as much of her flesh as possible from the clothing she was wearing, blowing hot air across her skin to keep her warm as she was stripped.

“I-I…” She whined, still clinging to him. “I don’t… Understand,” Her eyes were shut as she was quickly laid as bare as Alduin was on top of her. 

“What is there to not understand?” He asked her, right against her ear and low in his throat. “You serve me, do you not?” It was a challenge, although one typically understood by mortals as a threat. She didn’t seem phased, however.

“I do, I just don’t…” She was cut off by a whimper as Alduin continued, trailing his long tongue across her ear. “Understand why, mm~” A low moan broke out of her throat as his hand trailed down her chest. “Why you want… To be like this with me…” 

To be fair, Alduin did not know either. All he knew was that he wanted this, and it was her duty to serve him. An honor, in fact, to be beneath the world eater and touched by him like this and live to see another day. 

“Does it matter to you why?” He asked, lips pressed against her throat. He tried to think of things he saw joor do on occasion. They did things like this, didn’t they? Press their lips together and against another’s skin? Another hand of his began to trail up her thigh, until it met her hips, and she squirmed more. 

“I…” She trailed off, panting a bit as his hand grew quite close to dipping between her legs. “I am… To serve you, my king.” She finally answered, laying back submissively. 

He had a feeling that wasn’t all, but he didn’t have the patience to pry further. She was laying back so compliant under him, and that fire in the pit of his stomach was hard to ignore. So instead of pressing the issue, he only moved ever closer, until finally, with curiosity, his fingers dipped down between her thighs. Eyja’s shoulders trembled and she bit her lip to keep from crying out like an injured animal, but this close to her Alduin could hear it perfectly. He growled in response as wetness greeted his fingers, and he felt his cock twitch in need. 

He was beginning to understand why joor spread so prolifically. When it felt like this, he found it difficult to imagine the weak minded mortals could do anything else. 

“Alduin~” She keened, a leg twitching as his fingers continued to explore. His throat felt dry as he panted in desire, spreading her legs even further apart, until a finger slipped inside her. She responded well to that, an arm coming up to wrap around his shoulders as she pulled herself up to meet him. He pressed his forehead against hers, sliding in a second finger and thrusting the two in and out as his mind was quickly consumed by the feeling of her on his hand. It was wet, hot—a wonderful heat he wanted inside of  _ desperately _ —as his fingers explored her eagerly. After a few moments he could feel her returning his earlier affections, now kissing along his jaw as he fingered her roughly, licking along his adam’s apple, and finally pressing her lips near his as though she was trying to breathe in the smoke on his breath. 

“Eyja,” He moaned, breathless. “More.” It was only the slightest touch commanding, but Alduin refused to  _ beg _ like she did, even though he almost felt as though he could. Eyja responded quickly, spreading her legs with ease on either side of him, and clung to him tightly as her lips met his in a messy kiss. 

Alduin all but rammed her down against the ground as soon as his fingers were removed and his cock replaced them. She was clinging onto him too tightly though, hips moving up against his at the slow, rough pace he started. He gave a low, loud moan against her mouth as the kiss became more teeth than lips, before he held her jaw tight and his tongue slid inside her mouth as though he was trying to devour her. Maybe he was, all things considered, from how much he hungered for her. 

Each thrust to begin with was powerful, deliberate, and nearly rocked her entire body. Her legs hooked up around him, allowing him to thrust deeper, and held onto him tightly while one arm secured around his neck and shoulders, and the other dug into his back. At the scratches left at his skin, he thought he should be angered but all it proved was how desperate Eyja was for him, trying to pull him closer and closer still. He moved, until his teeth could just break skin on her lower lip, drawing blood from them, and traced his tongue along it. Blood now clearly belonging to something not quite dov and not quite joor, a taste he would not soon forget. 

With each cry of his name from her lips though, his hips only moved faster. He was nearly fully sheathed inside her, despite the size difference still between them even in this form, and every inch of her body felt perfectly made for him. Alduin freed one hand to grab a fistfull of Eyja’s hair, using it to pull her head to the side to riddle even more marks along her neck and shoulder as every thrust got him lost in more and more dizzying pleasure. 

Eyja’s moaning grew louder and louder, guttural and feral as Alduin panted desperately against her throat. Blood was coating his lips and left behind by them in a trail smeared across the woman under him, and all he could feel was her body wrapped around him tightly and the heat racing in his veins. Finally her cries reached a peak as she bit sharply down on Alduin’s exposed shoulder, drawing a few drops of his blood, and her whole body trembled. He growled at the bite, before gritting his teeth as her cunt tightened around him perfectly. After a few more thrusts and messy cries of her name, he came undone as well, pumping her full.

It took a long moment before the pleasure began fading from his mind and his breathing settled. He easily untangled himself from Eyja’s body as she had grown almost completely limp, eyes glazed over, and chest rising up and down quickly with her panting. Alduin’s semen leaked out from between her legs onto the fur, and her whole body seemed aflush, while the smeared blood was all the more apparent. Her eyes had watered at some point, leaving behind only dried tears along her cheeks.

Alduin stayed there looking at her for a while, before picking her up and rising up from the pile of furs. She made a soft sound of pain, before he walked into the water pool in the cave, sitting down and seating her on his lap as he began to clean her. 

Alduin, first born of Akatosh, had not ever groomed another dov, let alone a joor. He was out of his depth here, but it couldn’t have been that difficult. For the blood he carefully lapped at it with his tongue, gliding along the bite marks he left, checking that they had begun healing. After that, he took the rag Eyja had used on him, and dipped it into the water to begin cleaning her thighs. 

“Alduin…” She mumbled against his chest. It was soft, her throat clearly strained, but she seemed… Content. He merely huffed in response, tilting her head to lick the tears off her face as well. 

“Do not assume I will be doing this often, joor.” He said simply. Eyja stiffened slightly, before nodding.

“I… I understand, my lord.” She made a move to grab the washcloth to clean herself, only to earn a growl in response from Alduin. 

“I did not say I was stopping.” Whether this was just a meaningless whim of his, he didn’t know, but he did not like a joor assuming they knew better than him. “Lay still.” Stiffly, she leaned back down against him. Next, he moved the cloth along her chest and arms, though he found it troublesome. He gave up part way through, content that she was mostly cleaned, before pulling her up out of the waters with him, and walking back over to the furs. Placed down safely now, Eyja began to redress and move the soiled furs away to be cleaned, and Alduin walked further into his lair, turning back into his normal form, and then walked back to where she was now laying, thoroughly tired. 

He blew warm air at her again as he laid down near her pile of furs. “Sleep.” He commanded, tucking his head close to her. She smiled softly, curling up next to him, and despite the daylight filtering through the cave entrance, ended up falling fast asleep.

—

It was not long after that Alduin rose and took off from his lair, the only words he left the dovahkiin with were simply to stay put.

The first tower was where he headed to, down south. Some joor had been settling around its previous location, of the hall where time began. To actually enter the hall was something else entirely—and something beyond mortal understanding. He flew down quickly and gave a shout, and soon found himself in nothing but pure white, in stark contrast to his pitch black form.

Akatosh was relaxed, in the form of a splendid gold dov, wings and head to the ground, and eyes closed. Alduin quickly landed as well, and stared at the being who created him.

“I did not know if you would really come to speak with me again.” His voice echoed around them. This form too was merely an echo of his divine being. His true body was long gone, like the others of the Aedra. “Though I do not believe you have come to follow my will.” 

Alduin scoffed at the very idea. It was the joor who worshiped their splendid forms first, who begged at their feet for domination and built temples to their lords. Akatosh’s will to not rule them was pitiful and misguided—the joor needed someone to rule them and asked the dovah. If dov were not meant to rule, why make them this way?

“I have come to speak to you of two joor you would have needed to make.” He huffed, the smoke going through the gold dragon before him. Akatosh’s eyes opened, glowing white. “One of my priests claims to have the soul of a dragon, and that there is another like him in my ranks.”

“Dovahkiin.” Akatosh spoke simply. “Yes, I know of them. Your priest speaks the truth.”

Alduin’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you make them?”

“They needed to exist.” Akatosh said simply, before raising his head up more, sitting up higher on his wings as well to tower over Alduin now. “You did not listen to my command and wished for domination as entertainment, yes? Then I have provided for you a challenge to your ironfisted rule.”

Alduin felt rage bubble up in his throat, and spit fire at the form in front of him. It did little to actually damage the divine, who simply remained towering over Alduin, unphased. “You created them to challenge my rule?”

“Did you not wish for something more? Were you not the one unhappy to wait throughout time, until called upon to end Mundus?” Akatosh asked. His calm, unphased tone only served to aggravate Alduin more. “They may serve many purposes, to challenge you, to protect this realm—and if need be, defeat you.”

“I will  _ never _ be defeated.” Alduin defiantly declared. “I am first born, the most splendid of your creations, and some half baked dov could  _ never _ hope to better me.”

“Then perhaps you should follow my instructions, to learn to appreciate Nirn’s creation, rather than lord over man and mer like a tyrant.” Akatosh countered.

“The joor begged for my rule. They beg for domination, and worship the ground our kin walks on.” Alduin spat. It was a conversation they had had many times before. “They swore devotion, and devotion they shall provide.”

“This is not what I intended you to do.” Akatosh said simply. “This, you are already aware of.”

Alduin’s spikes puffed up further, as he contemplated his next question. He would not be surprised if Akatosh made the other dragonborn deliberately to distract him, to make him feel things a dov should not. 

“Then what of the dovahkiin that is not yet a priest?” He asked. “She can affect my other form in ways it should not be affected.”

Akatosh was quiet, following that. He seemed to contemplate it, going back into his resting position, glowing eyes closed.

“The dovahkiin do not have any special ability to do that. Your other form is not being affected by her.” He said simply.

“ _ Lies _ . I can feel it clearly. My other form does not need food, nor water, nor to mate, yet craves it with that dovahkiin you have made.”

Another period of silence followed, of which Alduin was unsure the length of. Time did not exist here, afterall, and any moment that neither of them spoke was simply filled with seeming chaos and endless silence.

“You do not need to eat, but you do so to partake in the pleasure of eating, correct?” Akatosh asked, of which Alduin simply huffed at, annoyed. “You do not need to sleep, yet do so whenever you wish, for however long your wish.” Akatosh continued, eyes still closed. “In that form, both of these are still true, and I gave you the form of a man so you may partake in all Mundus has to offer without the limitations of mortality clouding your senses.”

“I know. This does not answer my question.” Alduin was quickly growing annoyed. Pleasures of the flesh, things mortals needed to indulge in, usually never held his interest for long. 

Akatosh’s eyes opened once more, looking up at Alduin. “Your form is not what is responding to that dovahkiin. You have no inherent desire to mate, to repopulate, like mortals do.” Akatosh’s voice was still level. “You simply desire her. You care for her, and crave that intimacy.”

Alduin stopped in shock.

Alduin, the greatest being in all of creation,  _ cared _ for something as weak and pitiful as a mortal?  _ That _ was his father’s answer? 

Alduin blew a raging hot fire to Akatosh with a loud shout, and the golden dragon did not move. He proceeded to take flight, blasting him with fire and ice as much as he pleased in a rampage, even trying to bite at his neck, only to phase through him completely.

Akatosh simply raised his head, and shouted ‘fus’ at him, sending Alduin stumbling, before he landed with a rage.

“I do not  _ ‘care’ _ for any pathetic joor!” Alduin shouted. “They are weak, pathetic, clueless, and  _ inferior _ ! They cannot use the thu’um properly, they cannot govern themselves, and  _ I  _ am their  _ king _ !” 

“You may lie to yourself but you cannot lie to me.” His voice was still as level as it was before. “We are the same, and I can see the contents of your soul.”

Alduin took off flying without another word, ripping himself from the first tower and back to Tamriel, and took off back for his lair.

He would show his father he did not care. He would rip that joor to shreds and parade her corpse in front of Miraak, and then kill him too. He would not be  _ challenged _ by some half formed dov in the body of joor. He was first born of Akatosh, the World Eater, Alduin!

Finally landing in front of his lair, it was late morning. Several days had passed where he flew non-stop, and he was finally ready to prove to his mad father that he would not be swayed with pathetic feelings such as compassion. 

Eyja was quick to come and see him, and he shifted forms. He would rip her limb from limb slowly, erase the feeling of her skin gliding under him from his mind forever. Alduin would kill this joor who dared to think of herself as a dov, and burn the memory of her corpse into his mind.

“My king!” She greeted, a beaming smile on her face, and Alduin felt his stomach turn. Suddenly the idea of Eyja’s body strewn about his lair made him nauseous, and that reaction itself made him all the more angry. 

His hand raised and moved to her throat, ready to tighten around it until she couldn’t breathe, until the bones snapped beneath his fingers. She didn’t even flinch or move away from him, instead welcoming his touch graciously.

Stupid. Weak. Pathetic. He repeated all of these in his head. Did she even know he could kill her? Did she even know he should? That he wanted to?

“Alduin.” She said simply, content, even trying to nuzzle into his larger hand, and it froze before it could tighten.

If he killed her, no one would ever speak his name like this. If he killed her, he would never feel that warmth again. Never feel her under him. Never feel her skin glide beneath his hands and give him something besides destruction and wrath.

His hand moved up to cup her jaw, pulling her close. She followed his lead quickly, trying to press up against him and onto her the balls of her feet to make herself taller. Her eyes fell half opened, staring up at him. There was more than devotion out of fear in those eyes, unlike the other joor he saw. Eyja’s eyes shone with loyalty born out of something far deeper.

“How do you feel about me?” It was a sudden, forward question. Alduin needed to know her loyalty, immediately. If she harbored even the slightest lack of devotion to him, he would not hesitate to retaliate after she already made a mockery of him by twisting his heart like this.

“How I… Feel about you?” Her eyes had opened wide, looking up at him confused, before she looked away. “I… of course you are my king, how could I feel anything but loyalty—“

“Look at me.” His hand grew tight on her jaw and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes darted around his face, and quickly her cheeks turned red. “And do not dare lie.” His voice was stern.

“I’m not—I’m not lying.” Eyja responded, voice trembling. “I do feel completely loyal to you, my king. But I… I just…” Her eyes glanced away again as her face grew even more red, and Alduin’s eyes narrowed.

“You just… What?” His voice was low, clearly showing his irritation, and a puff of smoke blew out at Eyja was well to highlight his aggravation. “Say it.”

“I…” She bit her lower lip, and her arms trembled. Alduin’s teeth grit, as he sucked in a breath to shout at her to tell him, before her lips parted and her voice came out quietly. 

“I think I… May… Love you, Alduin.”

Alduin didn’t exhale the breath he took. Instead he simply stood there, hand still locked in place on her jaw and chin.

‘Love’? 

That was a joor word, not a dov’s. Dovah did not love. They had no need to. All they needed was loyalty, will, and hate.

“I’m—I apologize, my king.” Her eyes now looked to the ground, shame painted across her face. Her heart was too unguarded. “I know I should not, that dragons have no need for those feelings, and that I am simply here to serve you. I suppose I… got carried away after you touched me like that. I know you don’t—“

“Silence,” Alduin’s voice came out surprisingly soft as he cut her off. “Do not speak for me.” He leaned in, trailing his tongue across her lips, earning a whimper. She trembled against him, slowly parting her lips.

That fire had been lit again as he bent over to try and devour her in a kiss, messy and clumsy, more lips and tongue than teeth this time. Eyja’s arms hesitated on his chest first, moving across the muscle until they touched the long, black hair that fell down his shoulders and back, and tangled themselves in it. He gave a satisfied growl low in chest, his hand moving from her jaw to the back of her head to hold her firmly.

Alduin pulled away, slowly, taking in her scent as he held her forehead to his.

“Dov do not know love.” He said simply.

“I know.” Eyja replied quietly. 

“Eyja.” He said simply, closing his eyes. “I want you by my side.” Putting this into words was a challenge, even for dovah who prided themselves on their tongue. “I want your loyalty, and I want your presence.” Eyja’s hands on him tightened. “In return I cannot offer you ‘love’ but…” He sighed. The only thing of value he could think of to offer from someone as prideful as himself was something not easy for a dov to give. “You will have my loyalty in return, and I may even be willing… To show you leniency and submission.”

Eyja laughed, a light, clear note. It didn’t reek of condescension, instead it seemed… Joyous. 

“Then I’m very happy, my lor—“

“Where others are not present, you only need to speak my name, no title.” Eyja’s face flushed a bit more, giggling.

“Alduin, then.” He nodded, moving to nuzzle against her neck, bending down at quite a troublesome angle to do so, but it was worth it. He could hear the blood rushing in her veins, and how fast her heart was beating. Alsuin hated his demented father, but this he could permit, as she was loyal to him alone. 

“You shall be a priest. One exclusively for me.” He began licking at a bite his own teeth had left on Eyja’s neck a few days prior, now scabbing over well. “You will have the highest authority among them.”

“I don’t know if… If I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.” Alduin simply huffed. Despite having the soul of a dov, she didn’t seem as eager to dominate.

“You do not have to speak on every issue of law they debate.” Alduin mumbled against her skin, annoyed. “I would prefer you did not, you would be better suited here, with me, than collecting tribute from joor.” He nipped at her ear lobe, careful not to break the skin. “I will train your thu’um properly, and if need be you may act upon my will or your own to change whatever you see fit.” His tongue trailed the shell of her ear next. “And you do not have a choice in that matter…” He growled that part lowly, menacingly, against her. She shivered in response.

“I had no intention of refusing, Alduin.” Eyja replied. 

“I knew you would not.” Alduin went back to nuzzling against her neck. Her scent was oddly relaxing after the stress of speaking with Akatosh. His anger seemed to be melting off him bit by bit. “But you should know what I will and will not tolerate.” 


	3. Grief

For the briefest period, things seemed peaceful for the world eater. A few stray rebellions, while a constant annoyance, were ultimately small in number or posed little threat. The priests tended to keep them in line, and the dov could be dispatched to end them if needed.

Eyja was named a Dragon Priest, one of highest ranks of the cult, and was to serve above the others as dictated by Alduin himself. In exchange for this power, she was to serve him directly, and live in his lair, only leaving when necessary for supplies and for important meetings. The other priests, while at first shocked, quickly relaxed upon hearing the conditions; While they had freedom to lord over their own domains on behalf of the dov, she was not given territory, and was never free from the world eater’s scrutiny. For them, there would be no greater punishment than to directly serve the foul tempered Alduin, as well as no greater sacrifice on her part to keep him in higher spirits. No one, in the end, envied her position. 

A mask was made and her title officially named: Konahrik. A vicious title intending to terrify those who heard it. A mask of special design was given to her, the healing of which made her near immortal. The elusive priest who could not be killed, who had the ability to shout just as the dragon’s did, who waited on Alduin’s wing and talon, quickly spread throughout the nord population. 

Alduin enjoyed the silence and isolation this brought him. It was difficult to be truly bored with the dovahkiin at his side, always a new thu’um to master, or time spent enjoying the taste and feel of her flesh. For this period of time in Alduin’s long, long life, there was little bloodshed, little tyranny. He flew less over the nord settlements, and this meant less landing on their large stone walls to stare down the joor to frighten them nor accepting tribute from the other priests himself. He did not command mammoths to be stolen and brought before him just to watch the nords struggle. He did not reduce rebellion camps into cinders.

It was foreign and strange, but not entirely unwelcome. His lair was filled with treasures, and there was few dull moments to be had. Even, at times, he found himself uncaring if the nords rebelled against the priests—he did not decide the joor laws, the priests did—and if they could not enforce those laws it spoke of  _ their _ failures, rather than a challenge of his own authority. 

After one meeting Bromjunaar, Eyja removed her mask as she entered, snow still clinging to her hood and clothes. Alduin, who had remained, greeted her with a long lick to her upper body, removing a good chunk of rime from her, and blew hot air onto her. 

“Alduin.” She greeted, quickly pressing her head to his maw. Through the tough scales and spikes he could only faintly make out a press of her lips to his face. 

“What business of joor have they brought up now?” He questioned. If it was concerning enough to call Eyja from her home, he should also be informed.

“Miraak has gone silent.” She said simply. 

“Is he dead?” He questioned, bored. He would be quite content if he was, as he had not been very productive in his tribute collection or rulership in his northern territory. He was often missing from meetings, though he excused this before as little resources to travel and a need to focus on issues affecting the land. With the problems affecting Solstheim as the most northern part of Skyrim’s territory, many priests did not press the issue. If they were lucky, the nords or Skaal may have killed him for them. 

“They do not know. Usually he sends an excuse on a messenger, but he has not the last three meetings held. Very few people have been coming and going from Solstheim who would know of what he is doing. If there was a rebellion that killed him, the nords would have likely celebrated.” 

Alduin huffed. How annoying. He did not like the idea of Miraak of all people suddenly going silent. From his previous behavior, it would not be hard to suspect him of being a traitor himself, and his dov blood only made that all the more likely. All it would take is a few wrong ideas to enter his head, and the arrogance of his dovah soul combined with his foolish joor mind would make him do something stupid. 

“They are sending others to search for him.” She said simply, taking off the large fur cloak. “And I… I met with some nords who were rebellious.” 

Alduin moved his head down to stare into her eyes more closely. “And why would you do this?” He was not pleased, but Eyja was not one to enjoy angering him purposefully. 

“They wished to see me. If they were not violent, I was willing to at least hear what they had to say. To not make an effort to understand your enemy is a foolish mistake, and the other priests have not had success quelling them for long.” Alduin continued to listen, silent. “They came to me and said they did not wish to fight if they didn’t have to, for they would lose too many men. A nord man named Hakon was their representative.”

“He said there is little food that hasn’t been taken by priests and their servants in many areas of Skyrim. Oftentimes they even send the nords out to steal food from the territories of other priests. If they are found making their own fields to grow their own crops without reporting it, their fields are burned and salted. In some areas the priests’ servants will slice out your tongue for even so much as a complaint against their laws.” 

“Hmph. And what do you make of it?” 

“I can believe it, from what I can see. The nords still fear and respect dovah, they only rebel because to not do so would mean to lay down and accept death like a coward. The other priests have gotten too greedy, and in doing so have caused problems for dovah, whom they then hide behind like cowards and then they act clueless for the cause of the rebellions.” This, she had a good point of. The other priests seemed far more concerned over their own gains, not just representing the dovah to whom they pledged their loyalty. If even Alduin’s bedmate felt concern for the blight of the nords, it surely must be an issue. If not addressed, they could all get the same level of arrogance as Miraak, and then try to ‘unite’ and destroy the dov to fully control Skyrim.

“I see.” Alduin replied. Eyja was pressing her hands, now freed from her gloves, against his ebony scales in an effort to warm herself. “It is quite bothersome that the other priests have decided to act on their own interests.” 

“I agree. I was going to address the laws of men at another meeting. If rationing and food provisions can be worked out, it may help to curb rebellions later. Nords may still oppose dovah, but with less people starving, recruitment should prove difficult.” 

“Are you joor really that motivated by hunger?” Eyja paused, before laughing. 

“It is that or death, and starving to death is a pathetic way to go.” She said. Alduin gave another lick at her face.

“I pity you. I wish to erase such meaningless hunger from your soul.” She was a dov, as much as he, as far as Alduin was concerned. A dov cursed into the form of a man, with all the pathetic weaknesses and limitations of a joor.

“I rarely hunger when I am with you, Alduin.” 

“You still do. You do not even truly know the thu’um as a dov does, nor flight.” He gave her a push with his head, knocking her onto the pile of furs where she slept. She gave a surprised yelp, before rolling his eyes at his antics. Now pinned under his head though, it was nearly impossible to escape. “Together we could fly for days, to continents you could not imagine. I could greet you the way a dov is greeted every time we are reunited, and there would be no need to prove your loyalty to me to the joor who serve us.” His voice rumbled down his jaw and throat, shaking her body. She laughed a bit at the sensation, hands on his scales. 

“I still enjoy my time with you.” She kissed where she could reach, a sensation he strained to feel. “Despite it all, I am glad I get to love you as a mortal does.” Alduin made a sound somewhere between a growl and purr. Slowly, he shifted, his form moving with him, until the spikes twisted and vanished into nothing, and he was hunched over her body. Immediately, Eyja began playing with the black hair that now hung around the two in a curtain, gently stroking and twisting it between her fingers. 

“What is it like for a joor to love?” He asked. It was beyond him, but the way Eyja mentioned it so often had him curious. 

“Ah… Hm…” She began to think it over, sprawled out under him still. “It is difficult to put into words.” 

“You have time to explain.” He hadn’t moved an inch since, simply watching her.

“I suppose it… Well it is very strong.” Eyja began. That much Alduin had gathered. Joor did stupid things when they were in love. It made mortals foolish, reckless, and weak. “It is…” She moved one hand away from his hair to hold Alduin’s face, cupping his cheek. “Whenever I touch you I feel like life has breathed into me. When you speak, it is like hearing Kyne’s song.” Eyja’s cheeks were a brilliant shade of vermillion now. “I enjoy the way your breath feels, the smoke that comes off your lips. I want the warmth from your body on me almost always. When I have to leave I feel… Alone. In a way I didn’t feel before.” She looked away now, eyes furrowed in concentration. “It feels… Different from worship, but I want to stay here. I like every moment of it, even the silence.” 

Alduin felt warmth in his chest, creeping up his torso like a shout entering his lungs. His eyes closed, while Eyja’s hands continued holding his face. He let out a rumble of contentment as she moved up to press her lips to his, moving against him as though it were as natural as flight to a dov. 

The hunger for destruction was always abated when she was near. Part of him despised it, that a mortal’s scent and touch could move him in this way. But he was the World Eater, and this joor his most loyal servant, willing, wanting—he could allow it, only like this. He did not know what this was, but it was a feeling he enjoyed. 

“You have been apart from my side too long…” He muttered after some time, burying his face in her hair. “Lay here for a few hours.” It was not a request, Eyja knew that much. Alduin usually made commands, not suggestions, but she was content to curl up against him, heat radiating off his bare form just as much as it did his scales. 

“Of course.” 

—

Alduin had gone with her for the next meeting with the other priests, carrying her on his back. He had landed a good enough distance that she could dismount and walk under him, to maintain status. Had the other dovah seen a mortal riding along his spikes they surely would have had pathetic ideas in their head that the World Eater had grown  _ weak _ , for mounting was only acceptable should a dov fall in combat. He kept a close eye on her the remaining walk while he glided on the winds, unwavering. 

After this she would be going to meet with those of the rebellion willing to put down their weapons and bow before their masters as they should. And he would be taking off with several of his generals to investigate what had happened to Miraak, and if he had perished yet. He wanted to take in her form, feeling strangely on edge. Letting her walk about far from his influence did not bode well to him, like he was dropping his guard in the heat of battle. 

Eyja was Konahrik though, blessed with powers from him that made her hard to kill. Anywhere she went, she would not be alone with his mask on her. He made sure of it. 

At Eyja’s suggestions the other priests, save Miraak who still refused to come, were about to put up a fight when Alduin’s burning eyes stared them down. Their complaints came out weak after it, barely scraping out their throat, but they had little defense. Eyja’s will was Alduin’s own, and they knew directly challenging her while Alduin stared them down would be to question him. Still, several waited the whole debate, praying he would open his mouth and admonish her, but it never came. 

The other dovah liked her defense. Yes, yes, the nords are weak willed and pathetic creatures. The priests knew this, yet still caused trouble lording over the food. Throw the scraps at them so they stop causing so many problems and return to praising the dovah who lorded over them.

In the end, they could only agree, and turned their focus on what they knew of Miraak: any people they sent in either found nothing, or didn’t return. They could not make their way to the temple where he lorded, kept far away by his followers, who seemed more feverishly loyal than was typical. But this meant he was not dead. 

No. He was a traitor. A foolish mortal who did not know his place, and dared to act on his own accord. The desire for bloodshed began burning away in Alduin’s core once more. 

Shortly thereafter, they parted ways. It was nothing more than a simple show of rituals, her bowing to him rather than pressing up against him and kissing at his scales like he had wanted, but the other joor did not need to see that. Alduin had instructed her to return to his lair when she finished, and await for him, before he took off into the sky. 

While flying, he found himself wondering: if dovahkiin hold a dovah’s soul, could he devour Miraak’s? He would try, in hopes he never returned. Any dov who did not bow to him would cease to be, and Miraak would be no exception. 

—

Paarthurnax and Odahviing accompanied him, as per usual. Others followed their orders, smaller dovah eager to please their elders, as they began making their way to Miraak’s territory. The dense forests were home to little more than strange creatures and snow, and very few had a need to cross over to the fairly barren land neighboring the sea of ghosts. 

He waited near cliffs, as a few dov went to scout about his temple. While Miraak’s followers may keep the followers of the dragon cult out, it would be much harder to bar a dov from landing within the walls.

Soon after, with eyes shut, listening over the miles and miles, he heard a strange sound: a dov, giving a final cry, and then an emptiness where they had been struck. A chill descended over the lieutenants. The familiar sound and presence of their spirit was no more. And in response, the feeling of a different, stranger dov, grew in strength. 

A second one followed. Then a third. Finally, the three remaining young dov of the scouting team returned, scales bristling and stained with blood. 

“Our brethren have fallen.” One gasped out. He was near death’s door, another dov shouting at him to heal his wounds. “The priest—He swallowed them. He knows an abominable shout to force them to land and fight on his behalf, minds deranged, before he devours them.” 

Silence, save for the sounds of wings beating, remained. Alduin felt all the more annoyed. That foolish joor had decided to use his dovah soul to devour the souls of those who fell. Sending more dov in to fight him would only lead his power to grow. 

“What else did you see?” 

“Strange towers and buildings, unlike what the joor make.” Another explained, as the most injured one whined. “It smelled of daedra.” 

So, a daedric lord had assisted him. It seems his arrogance had not been born out of nothing: he had found a new lord to serve. A Daedric Prince at that, ones that typically did not care for the wellbeing of their devotees. When Miraak was no longer useful, he would not even be given dignity in death like a dragon priest would, but the temptation was likely too irresistible for the foolish joor. 

“If you rush in foolishly you will die.” Alduin stated simply. “Enter only on my command, and do not perish within his walls.” He needed a proper plan of attack first, before he would take great pleasure in stripping the mask off Miraak and swallowing his soul entirely, before tossing his corpse into the sea of ghosts. 

While making preparations in the days that followed, however, what he had not expected was a dragon priest and several of his followers rushing to them just outside the walls of Solstheim. Alduin’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the man: Vahlok. 

“Mighty Alduin,” He did not seem to have come here for simple reverence. Did he not have his own territory to watch over? The other priests were to wait in their territories for Eyja to arrive. “I have grave news.” 

“Speak.” He rumbled. Had this not been his priest, he would have roasted the joor alive for disruption. The others behind the priest were trembling on their knees, weapons laid on the ground before them. 

“Konahrik was taken near the border of my territory.” 

Only a small pause of silence followed, before Alduin let out a gust of heat so hot it melted the snow surrounding the priest. Vahlok had not moved, though several of his followers fled in terror, hiding amongst the trees. 

“ _ What _ ?!” Pure rage followed. “Taken by  _ who _ ?!  _ Why _ did you not  _ stop it _ ?!”

“I had followed because I did not trust the rebels. Soon after she left their camp, people in strange robes descended and wiped out her followers, and took her alive. I attempted pursuit, but they escaped me, and for this I beg of your forgiveness.” 

Alduin shouted loudly to the sky, fire bursting from his throat and between his teeth. He took off into the air, shouting in pure rage. 

He nearly swooped down and put Vahlok in his jaws, flung him about until his body was ripped into fine shreds and gore between his teeth, nothing identifiable remaining. He wanted to, genuinely, but in all his rage he knew Vahlok had been the only one to see her leave. Wherever Eyja was, killing the last witnesses would not help him find her. 

He landed, and the earth trembled under him. Other dovah were watching with curiosity, picking apart the crowd in the trees to see if any of them would make for a fine snack if Alduin attacked Vahlok first. 

“You will find her.” It was a loud, angry command, but the depth of his emotion still did not show. Even if she had perished, it would not be for long. Alduin alone had the power to revive a dov, and if Miraak could devour dragons like a dovah could, Alduin would bring her back if he needed to. This rationale was the only thing keeping him from burning every tree and settlement in Skyrim to the ground until he could find her. “And after this, I will decide on your punishment.” 

He could smell the fear on Vahlok, but despite this, he nodded. “Of course, my lord.” He then rose. He could not smell cowardice from the priest so he was unlikely to try to escape his command, but despite this, he turned to Odahviing.

“Follow him. Fetch my priest and bring her back to me. Her work is of no purpose when a more dangerous rebellion threatens my rule.” From there he would escort her back to his lair himself, and bar her from leaving. Only once Miraak was long dead would he feel she was safe, and this fear—

_ Fear _ ?

“Yes, Alduin.” Odahviing followed his command, and Vahlok’s followers did not seem thrilled by their new traveling partner who followed them through the skys. Watching him fly off, Alduin felt even more ill content. 

Dovah did not fear. Fear was a weakness. Fear was unnecessary, for an immortal being, for a shard of time itself. Alduin, greatest in all of Akatosh’s creation, had even less need for it. Why had that word entered his mind? 

The thought struck again, that Eyja would never call his name, and all of his spikes bristled. It made him angry, a blinding rage he had seldom felt before. He took off into the skies, flying about while Paarthurnax watched his brother’s departure carefully, unbeknownst to Alduin. 

—

A few dov were sent to follow with Odahviing, acting as messengers while Alduin continued to stalk the temple Miraak was holed up in. With careful flight, and more than a few cultists swallowed whole by Alduin, he had learned a fair bit more. 

The daedric prince whose influence reeked all over his temple was none other than Hermaeus Mora. A stray lurker was all the more confirmation he needed for it. That foul prince was a problem, as he was not ignorant and arrogant like other daedric princes were—he was cunning and more knowledgeable than a prince should be. If he was helping a dragonborn, it would be foul. 

When Odahviing landed near him, however, Alduin knew it would not be for anything pleasing. He was already snarling before the red dov even spoke.

“We know of who took the priest.” 

“Where is she then?” Alduin growled, smoke billowing from his maw. 

“Konahrik was taken by cultists. Miraak’s.” 

It did not need to be spoken aloud for Alduin to know why he had taken her. 

He had already commanded and swallowed the soul of a pure dovah. He wanted to know what he could gain from Eyja, another living dragonborn, and hopefully with her devour the skills and secrets Alduin had imparted to her. 

A storm had already begun brewing in the silence, dark clouds gathering while thunder rumbled. When Alduin was truly enraged and battled, even the heavens rained hellfire upon Nirn. 

He only took the best among them to the temple, Paarthurnax tasked with assisting Alduin, and Odahviing tasked with finding her and bringing her out with a few other dovah. Once he saw Odahviing flee, the rest would follow suit. Rescue missions were seldom done by dovah, but they understood that a dragonborn devouring another, equally powerful dragonborn soul who learned from Alduin himself was not something they could permit. 

Miraak, the foolish joor who did not know what wrath he had unleashed, found his temple assaulted with meteors. The walls trembled, and his followers attempted to shoot the dragon’s down with war cries. Their priest was not far behind, laughing to himself at the sight. 

“So the world eater has come himself.” He was too cocky, trying to goad Alduin into speaking, but found himself surprised when the eldest dragon simply evaded him for now. The more time they had to distract him and waste his people’s energy, the better chance Eyja had to escape. Miraak was clearly thrown off by this, as he had expected a straight battle with Alduin once his anger was sparked. It wasn’t that Alduin did not want to, he would have taken great glee in ripping him to pieces, but this was not an attack to take him down. He heard a shout of his name to the sky, breaking through the ceiling of where it was being kept, and he felt some semblance of relief. Eyja was there, living. 

After what felt like agonizing hours of battle, one dov falling and being devoured by Miraak to heal himself, Odahviing took off away from the temple. Miraak looked quizatively, before the rest of the dovah followed him, Alduin included. 

With a quick shout, once far enough away from Miraak’s territory, he commanded the other dovah save for Paarthurnax and Odahviing to continue to the rest and inform them of all they saw. Then, the three landed in a clearing of dense pine trees, Odahviing careful in his landing. Paarthurnax followed behind slowly, injured, one horn half gone and bloodied, but alive.

Alduin scarcely breathed as Odahviing’s mouth opened, and the priest was placed in the snow. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her mask nowhere to be seen. 

The idea of dignity quickly flew from Alduin’s mind as he saw the growing red stain below her, and shifted in an instance. Eyja wheezed, and Alduin could see her leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, and there was something else stinking up the scent of her blood: poison. 

Miraak had intended to kill her in as messy a way as possible. Seeing her stomach through her cut up clothes with stitches in her skin, it seemed as though his “experiments” had also included gutting her, before putting her back together. 

“Al… Duin…” Her voice was hoarse, and his hands did not know where he could touch her, nor how hard. They scrambled, as he used a healing shout. With a groan of pain, her twisted leg reformed properly, but she wasn’t being stabilized. 

“Eyja,” He pressed his forehead to hers, panicked. Alduin was eternal, even among dov. He was one being who was not to know death, and death meant nothing to him normally. Yet here he was, unsure how to process any feeling coursing through him. “Eyja…” His voice came out like a whimper, broken. Even though the blood was stopping, he knew she needed an antidote to the poison and energy from the followers of a dragon priest, both of which were far from here. Even if he tried, she would not make it. 

He could command her soul back, could he not? Reanimate her flesh, make it whole once more. He had done so with fallen brethren, why could he not with one who had the soul of a dov? 

She made an effort to nuzzle into him, shivering from the cold. Alduin quickly blew across her in hot air from deep in his lungs, yet the color did not seem to return to her limbs nor cheeks. He could feel it, every second that passed, that her breath was growing more shallow and her soul growing dim. 

What made his soul ache the most was how she was smiling at him so warmly still, lips stained with blood. 

“You… Came…” She whimpered, almost unheard under Alduin’s panicked breaths. 

“I would.” He responded. “You know I would do this.” She still seemed grateful, despite the fact he had come too late. If he had only arrived sooner. If only he had killed Miraak sooner. If only he refused to let her step foot outside of his lair, she would not be  _ like this _ !

“I… I’m glad.” She exhaled unsteadily. Her unfocused eyes could no longer stay open, her eyelids growing too heavy. “I… I lo...ve…” 

He waited, but the rest of the sounds had died in her throat, and soon after, her chest ceased its movement. 

The first thing Alduin felt was numb. He stared at her corpse and felt as though time had ceased. She felt so heavy and limp in his arms and against the ground, and her soul slipped away. If he had defeated her he would have swallowed it himself, so that neither of them could be parted. So that in him, she could experience Miraak’s death. But he was powerless to devour it without landing a killing blow to her, and she was too far currently for Miraak to swallow it.

Next, he laid her there, before giving a shout. Normally at this, his brethren breathed once more, bodies reforming, souls returning. Yet nothing came of it. 

Again. And again. 

Something sinister crept up his spine and in his throat, and before he knew it something wet was on his cheeks and clouding his vision.

Love. The last thing she had tried to say to him.

Perhaps, against his nature, he understood that emotion somewhat. How weak it made you feel. He had neglected his rule because of it, and in doing so it cost Eyja her life. He tried to be angry at her, enraged that she left him alone, but that thought died when instead of a flame from his throat nothing but smoke erupted. She did not intend for this. She would never leave willingly. This was not her fault, not entirely. It was Alduin’s for letting her leave. It was the rebels, for daring to go against his commands. It was Miraak’s, for injuring her this way—

_ Miraak _ . The mortal who dared to try and devour  _ his _ priest’s soul. The mortal who did not only defy Alduin, but stole from him something he valued above anything else in the land of Nirn. 

He gave a quick, enraged battle cry to the sky. Odahviing and Paarthurnax were silent, but they knew what was to come. 

Miraak’s time on this plane was limited. 


	4. Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from about this point onward i'll be bolding dovahzul for my own sake. only exception will be if the people in the discussion (like dragons) wouldn't be confused or need a translation for it. i figured members of the dragon cult in the past had a pretty good understanding of the dragon language at least, hence why i didn't for the past

The 201st year of the 4th Imperial Era: The Dragonborn began her journey to learn the words of power. And she was not thrilled about it.

Climbing the steps to High Hrothgar was fucking miserable. Then again, the past few weeks had been fairly miserable as far as she was concerned.

It first started when she got caught in an ambush, her head pounding uncomfortably, as they wheeled her to Helgen. She insisted she was innocent, very clearly not a Stormcloak, simply someone trying to leave. Skyrim had seen better days since the war, and even with a treaty with the Thalmor called, tensions were high. None of them listened, because if they let her go they had to potentially let nearly all of them walk free, and sent her to the chopping block. The crime punishable by death: being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

And just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, a huge, horrific beast straight out of legend landed on the tower right in front of her, and rained fire down on all of them. 

She had escaped her execution, but not with her life quite yet. Regardless where she went it was fire, rubble, and charred bodies while the daedra damned, honest to gods  _ dragon _ , roared! Finally escaping, she had to pull gear off of corpses, fight more stormcloaks, and managed to escape out the Helgen dungeon just in time to see the huge black beast tale off into the sky, flying off towards what looked like Whiterun.

Before she knew it she was saddled with some food and gear, and walked her little behind down the road to Whiterun, only to get chewed out, condescended, and sent off to a dungeon crawling with draugr and giant spiders. Then, a weird glowing wall, another dragr down, followed by a sick feeling in her stomach, and then the stupid stone she was looking for, and she left.

Then, just after she thought maybe life could slow down and give her some breathing room, she a dragon was attacking a tower, and who  _ better _ to help them slay a dragon than someone who barely survive by the skin of her teeth a dragon attack on Helgen that nearly cost her her daedra damned life?!

One destroyed tower, and a strange dragon soul meal later, and she was sent off to Ivarstead to climb up the 7,000 steps and speak to the Greybeards, who wanted her personally. 

Freezing her ass off on the walk and struggling to gulp down thin air sure didn’t make Eyja feel like the great Dragonborn of legend. All she felt was extremely out of her element, and extremely miserable. If she had more than a few hundred septims to her name she’d buy a house and live there in peace, forgetting this whole dragon nonsense for at least a few weeks. Somehow though, even if she had the coin, she doubted the World Eater himself would give her the time to unwind and process all of this. So repression it was. She was fairly good at that at least.

A stubborn frost troll and ice wraiths down, along with several potions, and she was blanketed in a subtle warmth in the halls nearly at the top of the throat of the world. Air wasn’t any denser, but at least it wasn’t burning down her throat and lungs as much every time she breathed in.

It was strangely quiet in there, which she liked. She much preferred the relative silence of the monks after so much chaos. The world was a lot more quiet from up here. The tests were fine as well, and they let her catch her breath  _ before _ sending her off to get their sacred artifact or whatever. She came out of it a hell of a lot stronger than she felt she did after that tower, even though she wasn’t sure she quite understood the Greybreads anymore than she did before this whole Dragonborn nonsense began. 

At least up here, her dreams seemed quiet. Eyja hardly remembered them by the time she woke up, but she was left with an awful sensation in the pit of her stomach that made her feel like shit. She couldn’t tell if remembering them or not was a blessing or a curse anymore.

The climb down the mountain the next morning was only slightly easier. To be honest, some sections she simply sat her shield down and rode it like a child in a sled, but that only worked for  _ some _ sections. She almost got sent tumbling straight down to Ivarstead the  _ hard _ way, if not for her catching a rock with her sword to stop her. The air only got warmer on her hike, rather than colder though, and soon she was greeted by leaves of gold and amber in the Rift. 

She stayed another night in the inn, exhausted from the hike down itself, planting herself face first into the pillow at four pm. Eyja only pried herself off for a hearty meal and several mugs of ale, before she promptly passed out in her bed just a few hours past sundown.

—

_ “Eyja.” The voice was familiar, just as familiar as her grandmother’s voice had been calling her name ever since she was a babe. Wherever she was though, it was pitch black. _

_ “Who’s there?” She called back. Eyja made a decent effort to stumble around like a fool though, nearly tripping over her own two feet, arms stretched in front of her. _

_ “ _ Eyja _.” The voice grew louder it seemed—or maybe closer was the right word. Just as she was about to demand an answer back, she gave a quiet yelp as a large hand grabbed her arm, tugging her forward. She was sent stumbling into a large mountain of flesh, in what she could  _ vaguely _ tell was humanoid. A bit more grabbing with her free arm, and shifting of her head, and she quickly realized it was probably male, and very muscular. Oh, and did she mention fucking naked? Yeah, she found that out after grabbing a handful of his ass, proceeding to feel what was definitely a dick against her thigh. _

_ She did the only sensible thing, which was try to pry herself away and ask what in the planes of oblivion was going on, only to find she could scarcely swirm in the embrace she found herself in.  _

_ Alright, let’s try that again: she kicked the muscular male in the shin and proceeded to turn tail and book it. She got only so far as making him yelp and drop his arms, before she found herself shoved roughly against something hard and cold, which she guessed was the ground. _

_ Just as she shouted, feeling his body laying on top of hers, the pounding in her head got much too intense, and she felt nauseous. Did he seriously give her a head injury? _

Eyja closed her eyes tight as the pounding grew more intense, and when she opened them she was greeted by faint light in the inn room from the sun just starting to rise. 

She leaned over the bed, only just managing to hurl into her bedpan, and then laid her head back on the pillow. Excellent start to her next journey: she was hung over, and even though she could remember this dream it was as confusing and weird as Sheogorath himself.

… Maybe she needed to stop mentioning daedra so much in her head. Sooner or later, just to spite her, one would appear and make her life even worse.

Whatever, she’d clean herself up, find that horn, and then certainly  _ someone _ would explain to her just how she was supposed to kill the world water himself. One step at a time. For her own sanity.


	5. Reunion

The fucking horn was missing. Stolen by some poor bastard who just wanted to piss her off.

And that poor bastard she found? Owner of the inn in Riverwood. She should have known better than to trust that inn. Mattress was far too lumpy and the ale too watered down. 

Delphine, as she called herself, had done it so she could truly find out if Eyja was the Dragonborn of legend. Oh, except tracking her down specifically after the Greybeards sent her to go bring the horn back, nor the reputation among the guards of Whiterun who saw her eat a dragon’s fucking soul,  _ nor _ her fucking shouting could convince Delphine she was the real deal. She knew way more shouts anyone her age could likely learn, but Delphine insisted she needed to see Eyja kill and absorb a dragon’s soul right in front of her.

So that is how they found themselves on a hike to Kynesgrove, so they could go stake out a dragon mound that would hopefully have a dragon coming to life out of it, and hopefully she wouldn’t get burnt to a crisp.

If Delphine looked away when she did it and made her do it again she’d throttle the woman. Forget the Thalmor hunting the Blades to extinction, she’d do it herself out of rage. The least Delphine could do was give her a free room at Riverwood after this damn mess.

They made it there in the afternoon, to the wonderful sound of locals terrified. Several farmers claimed a huge beast was flying overhead.

“Dragon.” Delphine said. “Alright, let’s see if you’re the real deal.” The few people in Kynesgrove either escaped indoors to hopefully be safe—though Eyja knew that was a futile effort given what she saw happen to Helgen—or fled down towards Windhelm.

Eyja rolled her eyes. “Yup, killing dragons is all I’m good for.” She said, annoyed. She never signed up to be a dragon hunter. If she was given the option she would have passed it on to her reckless idiot of an older brother, except that asshole spent all of three weeks after the war in their home before he left for Cyrodiil, taking most of the money with him. 

After the world was saved she would get a new house, hang up all her dragon bones, and then track down Fengr herself, drag his ass back up to Skyrim, and force him to look at the mess he left her in. He spent the three weeks saying she’d never understand war like he did—as though that excused him abandoning her—well he never knew what it was like killing a fucking dragon!

Up the hill toward the burial mound, it felt like a storm. The air was filled with static and her hair not trapped in her braid stood on end. With a fearful whimper, she noticed the dragon flying overhead was the one she had been dreading seeing: the same, huge, black one that turned Helgen to ash. 

She huddled in the bushes while Delphine watched whatever the hell that dragon was doing. He gave a powerful shout at the burial mound, before the earth cracked and broke away. Out of it came the skeletal remains of a dragon, before what seemed to be the reverse process of whatever happened when she absorbed a dragon’s soul: their flesh reformed in embers onto their bones, forming their scales, horns, and eyes.

“ **Alduin, my lord,** ” Eyja barely knew any dragon-tongue, but she recognized the name “Alduin”. She was  _ really  _ hoping that huge and menacing black dragon  _ wasn’t _ the world eater she was expected to kill, before it quickly dawned on her that if he wasn’t, the  _ real _ Alduin would be even bigger, meaner, and more terrifying. “ **Has the time come to revive our realm?** ”

“ **Yes, Sahloknir, my champion.** ” Well if she could give the dragon language one thing, it was kind of terrifying. Cool, yes, but also guttural and terrifying. 

“Get out there already.” Delphine whispered, annoyed. “Before I do it myself, and then end you.”

Fine, fine! She had this. She’s killed a dragon before. She could do this. She stepped out, bow in hand, before the airborne black dragon turned his head at her.

He was silent for a moment, and Eyja felt sweat drip from her brow. 

“ **Salhoknir, kill the mortal hiding in the bushes.** ” The black dragon—who she was just going to assume for now was Alduin—spoke menacingly. She didn’t even understand a word of it.

“ **And this one?** ” The other, previously skeletal, dragon asked, turning toward Eyja.

“ **Test her. Leave her alive.** ” With that, the black dragon soared off, just as the grounded dragon took flight.

Alright, she had this. She drew an arrow, and took aim, waiting for a moment the dragon paused in the air or swooped in close. It made a few circles at first, and most of her arrows missed, as Delphine emerged. Immediately as the Blade began moving, the lone dragon took a straight dive for Delphine, almost driving her into the dirt. 

Delphine immediately began laying blows the moment she staggered up, and Eyja let loose an arrow straight for the big scaley nightmare’s eye. He gave a cry of anguish, attempting to snap at her, just narrowly missing as she ducked and rolled back. 

Alright, this was more dangerous than the tower. There were way less guards distracting him, and much more fire and ice to dodge, not to mention there wasn’t exactly any  _ cover _ . He nearly set her bow completely on fire and froze her limbs solid more times than was comfortable, but at last, the beast fell. Just as quickly as his flesh reformed it burned away once more, leaving behind a skeleton.

His soul was absorbed, in a way that was never comfortable. Voices swirled about her in a confusing mess, and the light grew too bright for her to see. She always felt strange during it: disoriented, relieved, and oddly sad for some reason.

Just as it died down and her senses returned, she could hear Delphine pleasantly surprised. “Well, it looks like you’re really—divines—!“ 

Eyja turned just in time to see the big, black, spiked dragon Alduin himself had returned, knocking Delphine to the ground which sent Delphine’s weapon flying. Her head knocked against a rock painfully, and she seemed to be out cold. Immediately, the dragon’s burning gaze hit her, and with wounds from her previous battle numerous, Eyja did just what you’d expect:

She turned tail and ran as fast as she could into the woods. She hoped the trees would slow the beast down, maybe even hide her from his view. Yknow, if he didn’t burn the whole thing down with her inside it. She heard him shout something loudly, and only begged it wasn’t a call for reinforcements.

She had left her bow behind—she could get a new one honestly, one not half burnt if she made it out of this alive—and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. 

Eyja honestly thought she had been doing fairly well when she didn’t hear the flapping of huge wings following behind her over the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears, until the sounds of breaking trees echoed, and she was sent crashing into the grass and wildflowers. 

A long, curved talon was literally right by her skull, and his pitch black wing pinned her down firmly. She wheezed, spitting out some dirt and grass that found its way into her mouth from the rough landing, and she could taste a bit of blood from her teeth cutting the inside of her cheek.

So this was how she died, was it? Face down, bitten in half by a dragon. Not a bad way to die, except for the facts that  _ she didn’t want to die yet _ , and  _ she was the last Dragonborn who was the only person that could stop Alduin _ . Sovngarde had to wait for her, or they needed to find another “Last Dragonborn”.

His hot breath blew against her as his face moved down close to hers and inhaled her scent, making her whimper. If she could, she would try to get her knife and stab the dragon, maybe at least take him down with her, except that one arm was under the dragon’s wing, and the other was pinned under her body, having tried to break her fall. Moving both was next to impossible, no matter how much she squirmed.

He opened his big, scary maw and roared up into the sky, and Eyja closed her eyes tight. Yup, here it came, her very-unheroic death, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

Except what came next wasn’t fire and death, nor freezing ice, and not even being bitten clean in half. Instead, the weight on her shifted, growing lighter.

Nine divines, was he letting her go? She prayed he was, that he thought she smelled too gross to eat or remembered he had something more important to do. Fucking anything really.

Then, just as she thought she had been let go and attempted to escape, a large hand grabbed her shoulder, rolling her onto her back.

Who was it she found on top of her in the woods, where Alduin just was, you may ask? Well, a large and handsome nord man with hair the color of midnight and eyes a burning red, who seemed to be completely shirtless. Just as her eyes drifted downward, trying to process if she had actually been killed and greeted with a  _ very _ welcomed surprise in Sovngarde, his hand gripped her throat.

“ **What is this deception?** ” His voice was gravely, low, and painfully familiar. Yes, it was that damned dragon tongue, and a voice she had just heard recently. Eyja didn’t even know what he said, but she had begun clawing at his hand as she desperately needed air, all while gasping like a fish. Thankfully he let go, instead grabbing her by the hair, pulling her head up and to the side. She yelped, trying to shove him off, before his nose was buried into her neck, inhaling deeply. 

Well, Eyja was lost. She officially had no idea what the hell was going on anymore, but she reached for her dagger, only to have the man’s other hand quickly yank it away with an animalistic growl. She then attempted to kick him, but even a few good kicks in the legs did nothing to stop him, and she couldn’t quite free her legs enough to knee him in the groin.

“Eyja…” His voice mumbled out. Well  _ that _ she had understood well enough, given it was her fucking name. Did she hit her head hard on that landing? That was quite possible. Certainly a more plausible explanation for whatever this situation was. Maybe this was all a concussion induced dream, and the attractive nord man on top of her a wonderful figment of her imagination.

“Uh, yes?” She answered, confused. Attempting to glance down only revealed he was 100% bare, not a scrap of clothing in sight, and for her sanity she quickly moved her eyes back up. At least from this angle she couldn’t see his crotch all that well. 

At her answer he gave a satisfied rumble, quickly moving to mouth at her neck in love bites and kisses. A shudder ran up and down her spine, and the sudden shift all but gave her whiplash. 

If not a dream, maybe this was a practical joke on her by some daedra. Maybe Sanguine himself was cackling away in his realm in oblivion as one of his hand crafted sex daedras tricked her into thinking he was Alduin and was now trying to seduce her. The only problem was Eyja thought it was  _ kind _ of working.

“Eyja,” He sounded almost pained, before sucking messily right on a particularly sensitive part of her neck. Her mind went a bit fuzzy as the pleasure sank in, despite her best efforts. While her dagger was tossed Akatosh knew where, the hand that wasn’t in her hair had laced fingers with one of hers. “ **Is this merely an illusion…?** ” His voice was fairly quiet after he pulled away, mumbling against her neck, as though he needed to make it even harder to understand him.

“Do you uh,” Well while she couldn’t understand him, she could at least interrogate him. With any luck he also spoke common. “Intend to let me go? Or mind explain—hey!” Whatever she had said, she had certainly pissed him off, as he gave a nasty snarl against Eyja’s throat. It was so loud she could feel it rumble all the way into his chest, and against her torso he was still pressed against. He then used both of his thighs to pry her legs open, his hand going toward her belt and trousers. 

“Excuse me—” She tried to protest, before the growl was at her throat again, silencing her. Her body, as though responding on its own, shuddered and whimpered at the sound. 

“ **You are** **_mine_ ** .” He enunciated every sound, low against her ear, as though that would make it easier to understand. Eyja’s arms moved up to claw at his back and hair, trying to grab onto him in the  _ hopes _ to pry him off and question him, when the smug bastard practically  _ purred _ at her hands moving across his back and tugging at his hair. As soon as her belt was undone and her pants unlaced, his hand dove straight in, while he began licking up her throat. 

Eyja hissed, as despite the chill in the air, his hands were  _ hot _ , and his fingers way more skilled than she had anticipated. Sure, she had a couple of casual lays, a few too many ales followed by spending the night with a man in a tavern. Usually a bard with honeyed words, or a warrior who promised to keep her plenty warm that night, but they were mostly all talk, focused on their own pleasure. Her legs were trembling as he rolled two fingers against her clit teasingly, before setting a nice, slow pace at just the  _ perfect _ angle—

If this was some dremora cooked up by Sanguine, she would give the prince his credit. Eyja quickly found herself whining and moaning, no longer caring of the rough grass and pebbles poking into her back. The nord, dremora, or whatever he was released her hair to grab her jaw, running his long, equally warm tongue along her lips. The moment her lips parted from a moan he dove it straight in, twining with her own in a sinful, dibellian kiss. As he moved against her, hungry and rough, she could feel his teeth on occasion scrape against her lips, far too sharp to be human. Another tally for the “possible a daedra” category, as was the taste of smoke on his breath that made her shiver.

His fingers moved down from her clit, and she hissed. She was  _ far _ more wet than she was proud of, having just nearly been killed a few moments prior. How could she go from terrified out of her mind to  _ this _ ? The man on top of her simply chuckled lowly, a sound that was doing absolutely nothing to curb her desire, only fanning the flames. 

“ **You still want me.** ” Whatever twisted dragon language he was speaking, when he said it in that kind of tone it was hotter than the deadlands themselves. Her arms had long since stopped trying to pry him off, and instead she was trying to claw him closer. Through the leather of her gloves she could feel the heat emanating off him, warming her up to her core. She still couldn’t understand a word he said, so her responses were limited. 

“More~” She whined. Whether this be a strange dream or a dremora, she didn’t really mind. It was better than being eaten alive by a dragon. 

He chuckled once more, and moved away from her mouth to her ear. “Beg.” It was a simple command, but his sudden use of common tongue and cocky attitude made her double take. 

“Wait, you do speak—” She was cut off as he teased one of his large fingers inside her, before pulling it out. She gave a strained groan, her hips squirming. 

“Beg for it.” He spoke again, his voice dripping with authority, and it was enough for her head to swim. Eyja whimpered once more, hands digging into his flesh. 

“Please?” It was more exacerbated than a beg, but it was enough to get him moving again. He eased one finger inside her slowly, before thrusting it in and out. She closed her eyes as he moved, working in a second finger, until his fingers curled upward. Eyja hissed and arched her hips up as he worked his fingers right at her g-spot, while he milked every moan out of her throat. She felt like nothing more than a lute in a skilled bard's hands from how well he seemed to know just what to do with her body. 

By now she was begging in earnest, making loud sounds of pleasure. His hands showed no signs of slowing down as he smirked at her, ruby eyes practically glowing. Finally, after many particularly loud gasps and moans, she arched her back up against the man firmly, and cried out from orgasm. He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her there, as she shuddered and moaned weakly while he forced her to ride it out. 

She was panting, trying to catch her breath after the torrent of pleasure stopped running down her body, when he pulled her up to her knees. She could barely stand upright like that, as her legs felt like they had melted completely and were basically useless, so she clung to him tightly to keep from falling over. He was down to her neck again, licking and kissing at any exposed flesh he could reach, teeth on occasion getting rough, while his hands ripped her leather pants down, quickly followed by her undergarments. Then, he turned her round so her back was pressed against him, and he could hold her up by the arms from behind. 

Despite being a nord, she certainly had never had sex out in the open, not even in in a tent. Certainly she’d heard of other adventurers doing it, but she much preferred being in a proper  _ bed _ with some fucking  _ privacy _ . Not out in the woods where anyone could walk out and spot them.

Then again, this may very well all be a dream, and if not a dragon  _ did  _ attack nearby, so she had a feeling no one would be stupid enough to come out here. 

“Eyja.” His voice was strained as his cock slipped between her thighs, her ruined underwear barely hanging around her legs. She wanted to find time to be annoyed about it, but he was so  _ hot _ against her cunt it was hard to think of much else, and certainly impossible to use her mouth for anything except moaning. Sometimes it rubbed right against her clit, and she could practically feel herself dripping all over him in anticipation, like she hadn’t been fucked in ages. “Eyja…” He mumbled into her hair, just as he started to tease himself inside. 

How did he even know her name, let alone know her well enough to say it like that? But that question flew from her mind as he started to slide in fully, stretching her. Divines, he was  _ huge _ ! If she wasn’t soaked from her previous orgasm she would imagine it would hurt, especially given the position they were in. He barely gave her much time to adjust before he pulled out, and gave a single, deep thrust inside, almost knocking the wind from her. 

“H-hey, watch it!” She cried out. It was a cross between unbearable pleasure and pain, but he only responded by lightly biting on her neck with a growl. 

“ **You still feel the same…** ” His voice was still nice and low, gravely, and  _ unimaginably _ hot. She was certain if she could understand what he was saying and he kept talking to her in a tone like that, she could climax from his voice alone. “ **You fit perfectly around me.** ” He pulled out slowly, and gave another deep thrust, starting off a very steady, slow, and  _ hard _ pace. She was panting again, hair sticking to her face, and she gave a mangled cry of delight at every thrust of his hips. Eyja had never heard herself making such loud, desperate noises before, and if she could focus on much else besides the man currently fucking her silly, she would probably be humilated. 

“Ah! Right there~!” She tried to grind herself back on him, but he responded with ease to her, one hand moving to hold her hips and guiding her. It was nice to have the stability of his strong arms, as she felt like her bones could turn to liquid at any given second; he kept her firmly upright, cock still buried in her.

As he began to speed up, she could hear him growling between his moans from behind her, until he grabbed a fist full of her hair once more. She cried out, as he leaned down to her ear. “ **Say my name.** ” It was commanding, but she couldn’t understand him, so she instead moaned out incoherently. “Say my name.” He repeated, this time in common, giving a particularly deep thrust into her. 

His name? She had no fucking clue. She had never seen the guy before, and she would have  _ certainly _ remembered a man like this, drunk or not. Between moans, she struggled to speak, slowly losing her coherency. “I—I don’t~! Fuck, Divines~!” 

“Say it.” He sounded almost angry. “Say my name. Tell me who it is that owns you?” Eyja wanted to by this point, drool leaking out her mouth and tears stinging at her eyes as another orgasm built up. 

“I don’t~! Know~” She whined, and he growled angrily. He gave a few more thrusts, rough and hard, before he pulled her back by the hair.

“Alduin. Say it.” Her cunt tightened at the name, moaning. 

“Alduin~!” Never in her life did she expect to be moaning out the world eater’s name in pure pleasure. If you told her she would be in the woods outside of Kynesgrove begging on a cock and chanting Alduin’s name, she would have tried to gut you alive. Then again, she  _ also _ wouldn’t have believed she was actually the Dragonborn a few months ago, so life was very unpredictable. “Alduin! Alduin~!” 

“Eyja!” It seemed to be just what he wanted to hear, as he moved even faster. He moved down to wrap his arms firmly around her waist, and with what little strength she had left, she wrapped her arms up and around his neck, as he moved down against her neck once again. The love bites were quickly growing in intensity, his sharp teeth now scraping the skin open and causing drops of blood to bead up in thin lines, but Alduin’s tongue was quick to lap them up. The pain only added to the experience if she was honest, and left her wanting only more. 

She couldn’t last long at such a brutal pace, her second orgasm rolling down her spine and legs, and she removed her arms to claw with gloved hands at his arms wrapped firmly around her. He didn’t budge or slow down in the slightest, continuing the rough pace. He seemed to be close too, however, judging by the sheer volume of his moaning, and how much she could feel his cock twitching inside of her. 

He gave a loud cry straight to the sky, before he bit down sharply on her shoulder, teeth piercing her deeply. She yelped in pain, trying to squirm away, before heat rushed out deep inside her as he pumped her full. Eyja was left twitching and moaning in pain and pleasure, trying desperately to get enough oxygen in her lungs when he pulled out of her, and she felt his seed trailing down her thighs. 

She couldn’t even stay conscious like this, having been so thoroughly fucked, combined with the pain, the earlier injuries, and the exhaustion from the journey to Kynesgrove. In his arms, she promptly passed out, mind slipping off into oblivion. 

—

When Eyja opened her eyes, it was dusk, the sun having just dipped down past the horizon with only a few precious rays lighting up the landscape. It was nearly completely dark, one of the moons rising in return. She groaned, sitting up from the tall grass, and yelped in pain. Her shoulder hurt something fierce, and making even a single sound scratched her vocal cords painfully. Her legs felt weak, and her pants had a few tears along the seams and laces, only barely pulled up back over her hips. 

Was that a dream? She was hoping it was, honestly, as the more she thought about it the  _ less _ fucking sense it made. 

She killed a dragon. Alduin popped up to hunt her down. He chased her into the trees and had her pinned under him, easily able to kill and eat her but instead he… Turned into a human and fucked her senseless? That wasn’t possible. Dragons were dragons, and men were men. Even if he  _ was _ able to take the form of a man, why bother with it when he was supposed to try and, yknow, stop the hero from taking him down? There was no line in the ballad of the Dragonborn that mentioned Alduin tackling the Dragonborn and mounting her for all he was worth. 

That was definitely Alduin’s name she had been screaming though. She remembered that  _ very _ well. 

She laced her pants back up, hissing. She was definitely going to need a soak in an inn after this. Her cunt was sore, she still had semen on her legs, and she was  _ also _ covered in sweat, dirt, and blood. 

As she stood up, she quickly remembered  _ why _ she was tasked with coming there in the first place: Delphine. She ran, or well, limped rather, back to the dragon’s burial mound. The previous skeleton was still there, and she could see Delphine on the ground. 

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead…” This was her best lead for dragonborn information, even if she wasn’t particularly thrilled with the other woman’s attitude. Upon approaching Eyja found she was still breathing, but still knocked out cold, complete with a rather nasty bump on her head.

Eyja used healing hands on her, and soon after, Delphine opened her eyes. 

“What in the divines….” She groaned, and Eyja offered her a hand to stand up. 

“Well, I killed a dragon and ate its soul, and then the both of us nearly got killed by another one that I am pretty sure was Alduin.” Delphine thought it over, and the memories seemed to be coming back to her. 

“Well, at least we both survived.” She sighed. “And we saw what we came here for, though I didn’t expect Alduin himself was resurrecting the dragons. Sorry for not believing you right away.” Delphine then glanced at her neck and shoulder, exposed after a few chunks were taken out of her leather armor by a certain someone’s teeth. “What happened to your neck?” 

“Oh, I was just—” She couldn’t tell Delphine Alduin himself turned into an attractive nord man and well, bit her neck up while he was pounding into her. Not only was it humiliating, it was madness to even consider. “I was on the run and hid in a cave, but a couple of wolves entered while I was hiding. I got bit, killed them, and waited it out. I think he’s gone now, at least.” 

Delphine seemed to buy it. “Why don’t you head to Windhelm and get healed up. I’ll make my way back to Riverwood. It’ll probably be less suspicious if we travel separately anyways.” Eyja nodded, relieved the lie worked, though it wasn’t like the actual explanation she had made any sense. Delphine left after a few moments of looking the burial site over, gathering her weapons, and Eyja walked down to Windhelm in the cold. 

After a trip to the alchemist’s shop for a few healing potions, she rented a room for night and had a tub of water brought up so she could begin washing. The healing potions did their job, and whatever aches and pains she had left slowly melted away after a bath and soak. Once cleaned, Eyja put on clean undergarments, and a large tunic, and promptly fell asleep, in hopes to not think for another moment about the frankly bizarre day she has had.

—

Alduin immediately made his way to the first tower with another confrontation with Akatosh. After the last one, he did not intend to ever speak with him again if he had any say in it, but the circumstances required it. 

Eyja was dead. This was a fact he had carried for years, and throughout the maddening journey hurdled through time. Eyja, his priest, the one mortal who could dare to claim Alduin’s attention and respect, was killed. In response he did not rest until Miraak retreated to Apocrypha, and intended to wipe out every single rebellion afterwards. The only reason he failed was his brother’s betrayal, and the human’s using that infernal shout to weaken him. 

But why, after the landscape of Skyrim changed so much, did he see a joor who looked like her? Her face, her hair, even the scent on the winds was all her. She responded to her name, yet didn’t understand dovahzul. She felt the same against him and responded to his touch, yet needed to be told his name. Even worse yet, she was a dovahkiin, one who devoured the soul of Sahloknir in front of him, growing ever stronger. Just as the blasphemous Miraak did. 

It must be a trick by his father. To deceive him, so that a new dovahkiin can challenge and even defeat him. And once he answered why he would do such a thing, Alduin would either kill her, or take her back. 

Upon his entry, Akatosh seemed weaker. He was still large and splendid, but now in heavy sleep. His power was elsewhere, stuck on Nirn still, not yet having returned to him. The scent of daedra clung onto his scales faintly. 

“Awaken.” Alduin shouted it at the god before him, and Akatosh’s eyes opened slowly. He did not raise his head in the slightest. 

“You returned, just as prophesied…” Akatosh’s voice sounded all the more faint, but with little other sounds in this realm, it was easy enough to hear. 

“The dovahkiin walking Skyrim,” Alduin landed, snarling. “Why does she take the form and name of my priest?” 

“She is the same.” The answer came quick from Akatosh. Alduin only growled.

“My priest is dead.” 

“This is also true.” Akatosh replied. “She was. But she had power not yet realized, and when her soul returned to me I guarded it, before returning it to Tamriel, to wait for your return.” 

Alduin responded with a roar, rage so powerful it made the tower itself tremble. 

“I called for her return before I was trapped in time!” Alduin had the power to revive any dov, yet Akatosh would bar him from resurrecting a dovahkiin? One that he intended to return to Nirn in the first place? “Why did you not listen then?!” 

“I could not return her so quickly, and she is not yours to call for.” Akatosh was always calm and collected, even when Alduin was at his most wrathful. It only served to make the dov all the more angry. “She is not your kin, who’s soul you can command and body you can reanimate. Even if you commanded it, you cannot reform her flesh like a dov. She would need a new body, one only I can provide.” 

“She is  _ mine _ !” Alduin snarled. “She is mine to call for as I please! She is my priest, one who serves  _ me _ !” 

“She is my creation. Her soul never belonged to you, Alduin.” Fire was spit out at the god of time before he even finished speaking. 

“You dare tell me she is not mine?!” The tower trembled once more, but this time, Alduin realized it was not his rage and actions causing it. Akatosh’s eyes closed shut tightly, while the presence of other Aedra could be felt faintly. 

If they Aedra were speaking, Alduin could not hear it. Akatosh seemed to be contemplating something, before his eyes opened once more. 

“Do you love that mortal?” He asked, slow, deliberate. Alduin’s rage paused for a moment, confused by the sudden question, before he blew a large puff of smoke.

“Dovah do not love.” It was a fact. Like many mortal emotions, they were beyond a dov’s comprehension, due to their immortality. Mortals needed things like love, sadness, and grief to give meaning to their short lives. 

“Then why did you start a war upon her death? Why do you claim she is yours?”

“Because she is my priest!” Alduin angrily snarled. “She is mine to command, and to attack her is to threaten my rule!” 

Akatosh gave a deep rumble in further contemplation, pausing. 

“If I were to offer you the world as it is now to rule, without her, and a Nirn you could not lord over, but she could remain by your side, which would you choose?” Alduin did not like the question with only these two options presented to him. His dov blood demanded domination, subjugation, and rule. It was in his nature. Yet another part of him denied that as an option. 

He still recalled his first thought upon entering the world once more after being flung through time: a world without Eyja did not deserve to exist. A world where he would never know her, embrace her, and hear his name fall from her lips again was a world he needed to end. 

“You cannot answer?” Akatosh asked, and Alduin bared his teeth in a hiss.

“The choices are ridiculous and pointless. I will have both.” 

“You cannot.” Akatosh’s voice rose in volume slightly. “She is the one made to defeat you, in this lifetime. You either kill her and rule Nirn, or you accept defeat.” 

Alduin roared, raising his head high, before he began pacing around Akatosh on the ground, spitting fire and ice. “She is my priest! She heeds my commands!” 

“She is no longer your priest. She is the last dovahkiin that will ever live. The last mortal with the soul of a dov. One I have made for I have foreseen your wrath to destroy this world I have helped create, and the destruction your tyranny brings. She exists to defeat you, and as long as she lives you will not rule.” Akatosh’s voice echoed loudly, bouncing off of Alduin’s scales. “These are your only options, my foolish, eldest son.” 

Alduin reared his head back to blast him with fire, only to be taken by surprise as Akatosh’s large jaws took hold on his throat, forcing him to the ground. He kicked and shouted, but the growl from Akatosh’s teeth traveled down his throat and spine. 

“You are foolish. But I give you this choice only for your own sake.” Akatosh rumbled. “Do not forget that man and mer were once immortal beings like we were. I know what it is I see deep in your heart, my eldest child. It is time you learn it yourself, and make the correct choice when the time comes.” With that, Akatosh lifted him up as his wings began to flap, taking him up into the air, before with a flick of his head, tossed Alduin out of the realm, back to Tamriel. 

Alduin roared, angrily, desperately trying to shout his way back inside the tower, only to find he could not enter. Whether it be because he was barred entry, or because Akatosh had used up the last of his strength to forcefully remove him, that was unknown. Regardless, Alduin continued a rampage in response across a small settlement near Bruma, before returning to Skyrim.


	6. Alcohol

What was the world saving, heroic Dragonborn currently up to? Well, not what she was supposed to be doing, that was for sure. 

After crashing a Thalmor Embassy party, rescuing a man from the Ratways, and finding some lost Akaviri temple near Markarth, the Blades had reached a bit of a road block. The big dumb wall that prophesized Alduin’s return and final defeat at the hands of the last Dragonborn was a mural, not a written account. Which was a problem, as while it told them a shout was used to defeat him, they did not know  _ what _ shout was used. And how do they find out what specific shout was thousands of years ago? They had no clue. 

The Blades  _ pointed _ her in the direction of the Greybeards, but there were two big problems with it: Eyja  _ seriously _ doubted that they would have kept record of a shout used in a war thousands of years ago when they were a bunch of pacifists, and  _ also _ Eyja had absolutely no desire to hike up that fucking mountain again. 

Instead, for about the past few weeks, she had been plundering some ruins, killing draugr, helping people out, the works. Whatever was going on with Alduin she’d admit she hadn’t seen his big scaly ass resurrecting dragons in a while. A lot of burial mounds she passed by were either long empty, or still buried, no spiky black dragon in sight. 

Eyja still wasn’t sure if she was glad, or disappointed. The Last Dragonborn didn’t know what to make of their previous encounter. Whatever it was, it happened—she still had the scars from his teeth—but if it was actually Alduin… Well the jury was still out on that. It’s entirely possible that Alduin never came back, leaving the other dragon to kill and eat her, only for a shitty dremora to make her  _ think _ Alduin came back, only to chase her into the woods and fuck her. Why? Who knows. Probably Sanguine was just looking to play a prank on the person who was supposed to save the world. Can’t have the Last Dragonborn run off and kill Alduin with the legendary shout from the past and potentially die saving the world without having a decent lay, could he? 

Talos, she still wasn’t coping well with the “may die” part of that. Any time the thought entered her head she broke out in a cold sweat. She was a nord, who was supposed to be  _ proud _ to die, especially die killing the daedra damned World Eater himself, but the thought just made her feel sick. Eyja didn’t want to fucking die—she wanted a new house somewhere quiet, maybe even find a man who didn’t suck in bed or wasn’t a huge ass, have a few kids. No war, no days left in an abandoned, tiny farm house alone. No dragon’s burning down the town. Big wish to have in Skyrim though, where bandits were nearly down every road, and if it wasn’t dragons and stormcloaks, it was forsworn, daedra worshippers, and divine’s know what else. 

Maybe she could run off and be a priestess of Dibella. Then again, she had a feeling if they found out she may have bedded a dremora they wouldn’t accept her, and that  _ did _ involve living in Markarth, a city she objectively hated every moment being inside. For fuck’s sake, last time she went in a woman got murdered, and she always got lost trying to find anything in those ruins they called a city. 

Currently she was at a tavern in Riften, now that the Thalmor were definitely gone. Most people here had a bad attitude, and the guards tried to shake her down for money once, but the mead wasn’t half bad. This close to the meadery it Blackbriar’s stuff was fairly affordable, and there was just something about Honningbrew that tasted a little off lately. So far Eyja had very little luck finding any shred of information about this mysterious shout used to defeat Alduin in any ruins, though she did find a cool dragon priest mask in the Labyrinthian after a lot of trouble getting in. The idea that she would in fact have to hike her way up the 7,000 steps once more made her depressed enough to try and drink herself in a coma, hence why she had polished more than a few bottles of mead. 

“Well well, you look like you know a good time.” A man came up to sit beside her. She wasn’t  _ quite _ incoherently drunk, but he seemed just as drunk as her, the stench of alcohol dripping off breath at every word. “If you’re trying to drink so much, why don’t we have a bit of a contest?” A contest would certainly help her with the task of getting so drunk she didn’t have to think about hiking, fighting, or fucking the man that may or may not have been Alduin that was currently haunting her memories every time she climbed into bed sober. 

“Depends. What’s in it for me?” 

“A staff of course! Pretty powerful one too I think.” She looked him over. Breton man, so he would of course favor magic over combat. 

“You’re offering a magic staff to a nord?” She asked. He laughed a bit, nearly falling out of his chair. 

“I figured you would like it! I can just tell from the cut of you you could get some good use out of it. C’mon, you’re an adventurer right? Collectin’ lots of magic stuff while you’re running around right?” 

Well, he was right. From her huge bag, thoroughly worn boots, and multiple weapons it was clear she wasn’t just a local or some farmer coming into the city for a drink. The only problem was she wasn’t  _ quite _ drunk enough to not question him further, though she was close.

“Well if you’re offering to give it to me you must not want it that bad. What if it sucks?” The man laughed some more in response. 

“If it was nothin’ but junk I would have left it on the side of the road!” He was grinning ear to ear. “I get it, I get it, most things in Skyrim aren’t for free though. I’ve just had a rough journey, and most nords aren’t lookin’ to drink with someone who isn’t a nord around these parts. I got a few valuable magic artifacts, so getting one off my back won’t hinder me too bad, especially not in exchange for a fun night drinking.” 

Well… He did have a point. Bretons had natural skill for magic, and didn’t need to rely on magic artifacts for it, especially not staffs. Not to mention they were in Stormcloak territory where the racism was pretty high, and she imagined a breton traveler would get a lot of shit even looking at someone wrong on the road. Maybe he just wanted to drink himself to Oblivion with someone half decent. 

“... Alright, you’re on. But I am going to get that staff from you, even if I have to track you down across Skyrim.” He looked pleased with her threat, still grinning like a mad-man.

“Of course, if you can actually out drink me.” 

—

The man—Sam—and Eyja didn’t get very far into their contest before they were promptly kicked out of the Bee and Barb because she refused to sober up and sleep until she won, and they were both refused entry to the other tavern in the city. Once outside, she bemoaned their plight, before Sam produced a few bottles of alcohol he kept on him, sharing with her. The alcohol was a hell of a lot stronger than mead, but the burn was kind of nice on that chilly of a night. And she was so drunk that she immediately began spilling all of her troubles to the breton, first complaining about the hike up to High Hrothgar she needed to do,  _ again _ , which prompted him to ask why she had to. She then explained she was in fact the dragonborn, killer of dragons, famed hero destined to stop Alduin’s return. A job she  _ also _ explained she never even wanted, which turned into a rant about her brother, the fact he left her, every mean thing he ever said to her growing up, and that she was actually scared shitless by Alduin. 

Which then devolved, while they were far outside the Riften city gates, and Eyja was debating stripping off all her clothes and swimming off to steal mead from the meadry on the lake, into the story of Alduin chased her down into the woods, tackled her, turned into a man, and proceeded to fuck her senseless. 

“Yer  _ kidding. _ C’mon!” Sam was laughing like he was Sheogorath himself, surprising given he just threw up behind the stables a few moments prior during her explanation. Eyja was laughing too though.

“I wish it weren’t true! I still have a scar from how much he chewed up my neck! Though honestly not sure if it was him.” She took a drink from the bottle Sam had given her, and all the stars glittering off the lake were all fuzzy and dancing before her eyes. “Hotter than sin though, whatever he was, and demanded I call him Alduin while he fucked me like he hated me. Maybe it was a dremora sent by Sanguine to fuck me up. If he was, the prince did a  _ good _ fucking job on him. Best lay I think I’ve ever had…” She whined pitifully. “It’s not fucking  _ fair _ how much I think about that bastard. I lay down in bed to try and rest and can’t even keep my hands off myself the moment I remember him. I’ve been fucking  _ cursed _ by his stupid cock!” The bottle, now completely empty, didn’t last much longer as she threw it against a rock, smashing it, suddenly now confused why everything was super blurry and her cheeks felt all damp—wait, was she fucking crying? 

“Hey, c’mon, no need to cry! Maybe you can fuck him till he gives up on this whole world ending nonsense. Next time he’s burning a city down, flash your tits and make him stop! That’s a pretty good card to have up your sleeve as a dragonborn.” Well, now she was laughing  _ and _ crying, so at least he worked on cheering her up a bit. “You’re way more fun than I even thought though. Fucking dragons, taking names, you’re a masterpiece!” 

“Well at least someone appreciates me…” Eyja stumbled a bit, eyes completely glazing over. She struggled against an aspen tree, dizziness hitting her. Maybe she had a _ bit  _ too much alcohol… 

“Wow, you feelin’ alright?” Sam’s words were slurring just as much as Eyja’s. 

Eyja opened her mouth to answer, as a black fog seemed to be blooming behind the breton, but that was the last thing she recalled.

—

When Eyja opened her eyes it was dark. Not quite pitch black, but pretty hard to see. Underneath her was hard stone, and it was fucking cold. Like, seriously, annoyingly cold. She reached around for a blanket or her cloak or something, feeling only more rock, and her hands ran up and down her legs to warm up the gooseflesh that had erupted—

Wait. Why were her thighs bare? She slid her hands up her sides and chest to find: yup, she was bare as the day she was born. Not even her underwear remained. That at least explained why she was cold, but only raised  _ more _ questions, namely variations on “why”.

She tried to see what she last remembered, and that was getting shit faced with the breton man outside of Riften. She was  _ pretty _ drunk, and disclosed more than a few things she shouldn’t have, like all of her emotional baggage with her brother, losing her virginity several years ago in a disappointing lay, and being madly in lust with the human form of the World Eater, but it still didn’t explain how she ended up here. And surprisingly, she didn’t feel as hungover as she was expecting given how intoxicated she was. Normally by now she was hurling, dizzy, felt like she was going to die at any moment, and needed a potion just to keep her head and liver functioning. 

With that line of thinking not helping her, as she didn’t recall when she might have stripped and ran into a cave after she blacked out, she turned her attention to the cave instead. With any luck she’d see her clothes and weapons and then leave back to civilization, her dignity only mildly intact.

The cave was very, very large, with a large entrance both at the top at the far side away from her, letting moonlight trickle in, and a large entrance almost at the opposite side, leading out into more rocks and bits of snow. She didn’t exactly want to go walking out there completely bare and freeze to death.

She stood up, shivering, and tried to find  _ something  _ of use in the massive cave. She found some rocks, a huge freshwater pond that was also freezing cold, a small waterfall leading into the pond, and more rocks. Not a scrap of clothing in sight, nor any weapons, nor anything to light a fire. Upon peeking out of the only entrance accessible to her, it wasn’t much better, as she couldn’t really name any landmarks she saw over the moonlight-touched landscape. It was somehow familiar, like she had seen the huge, old nord style structure the cave overlooked, but she couldn’t quite name it. She also couldn’t see any of her clothes or weapons outside, nor her cloak. 

Eyja officially had no clue what was going on, besides the fact she was about to freeze her tits off in a cave in the middle of nowhere. How she managed to make the trek up here—wherever ‘here’ was—stark ass naked in the middle of the night was beyond her. She might just have to wait it out by grabbing some wood outside somehow, despite having no tools or clothes, and starting a fire with her limited magical skills.

Just as she was trying to find a tree to run off to and hopefully find branches under, she heard a noise that was familiar in a way she did  _ not _ like: the sound of a dragon’s huge wings flapping, not to mention a few angry cries from one echoing across the landscape. 

That was very,  _ very  _ bad for Eyja. Sure she was pretty tough, but not “fighting a dragon bare handed and naked” tough. She imagined she’d scarcely get through a few frost or fire shouts until she was at death’s door without arrows to shoot at the beast, nor armor to protect her. And that wasn’t even taking into account that it was also in an unfamiliar location, in the dark, and potentially still under the effects of alcohol given how much she reeked of it.

Eyja considered just waiting it out in the cave until a giant or something took the beast down, when she felt the earth under her tremble and it sent her to her knees, as the huge beast landed on top of the cavern, and was quickly climbing inside of it. 

Every swear word Eyja knew was being screamed in her head as she began to shake. Either the dragon already knew she was here, or this was the dragon’s fucking den she decide to skip off to in the nude. She wanted to throttle her drunk self for all she was worth. Maybe if she survived this she’d swear off alcohol for good, but her chance of survival was pretty low as far as she could calculate.

The dragon didn’t make it that far in its home when it’s head raised, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. Great, no doubt it could smell the alcohol stuck to her, preventing her from even being able to stealth it out of there. It gave a low growl as it began quietly stalking through it’s home, while Eyja had a hand clamped over her mouth and pressed up against the wall in hopes it wouldn’t see her. 

The moment she saw glowing  _ red  _ eyes looking at her though, along with the familiar curve of his horns and spikes, she was up on her feet and tried to bolt out of there was a scream. She was in  _ Alduin’s _ fucking cave of all places?! What, did she think while drunk she’d go and kill him naked to save the world? Or did that fucking breton make a bet with her that she couldn’t fuck Alduin silly?

Regardless, Eyja didn’t make it very far before a growl echoed in the cavern, and something  _ very _ wet and long wrapped itself around her leg, yanking her back. With terror she realized it was the World Eater’s  _ tongue  _ of all things, as she tumbled to the ground. She yelped, elbows scrapping on the stone painfully, before a talon rested by her head once more. This time, while pinned under the dragon’s wing like a trapped mouse, she was on her back and able to look up at him. This of course, only served to terrify the absolute shit out of her, as she could see the moonlight glistening off the dragon’s every tooth and spike, jagged and dangerous. 

“ **What have we here?** ” His voice was just as she remembered, unfortunately. Slightly rough, deep, and the faintest touch condescending. The voice that haunted her whenever she was in bed at night, and spoiled her chances of getting any other lay. “I had not expected you to find your way back to my lair,  **dovahkiin** .” She shivered in terror—and that was  _ all _ it was, she insisted—voice caught in her throat. She couldn’t even struggle against him, merely lay in his grasp wide eyed like a hare in the mouth of a wolf. 

He glanced down at her body now, or at least what little wasn’t covered by his huge wing, even going so far as to dip his head into it, staring her down. “So, you come to me  **unarmored** , bare, do you?” His breath was warm as it tickled her skin, and she shuddered, eyes still open wide in pure terror. “ **The look on your face… Foolish of I, to think you would remember so suddenly.** ” His voice was surprisingly low, compared to how loud she imagined he would have been given the Dragonborn had crawled into his lair completely defenseless. Maybe he was actually mocking her in his dragon tongue, which wouldn’t surprise her. She’d mock herself too if she was in his position. “What should I do with you,  **dovahkiin** ?”

She opened her mouth to try and speak, but nothing came out beside a soft whine of terror. He huffed a bit, before moving his huge maw even closer, breathing deeply. 

“ **You have the stench of daedra on you…** ” She still had no idea what he said, shaking, eyes now shut tight in the event he ripped her in half for real this time. “ **Disgusting… I should rinse that prince’s influence from your flesh…** ” It sounded almost like a purr, before the dragon gave a quick lick at her chest, making her scream slightly. Was he seriously licking her? Was he actually going to fucking eat her?! 

She shook and trembled, gasping every now and then—definitely out of fear, she’d repeat— but his teeth didn’t seem much closer as he gave her only a few licks, before making a sound of displeasure. “ **That can wait…** ” Then, the weight started getting lighter on top of her, as she could see the scales and horns move and shrink, some smoke appearing as well, before his human form was on top of her once more. He made eye contact with her—his eyes far too knowing for her sanity—before he placed both hands on her hips and began to trail down her body with his tongue and lips, starting from her collarbone.

“W-wait—!” She protested, thoroughly flustered. Was this some kind of dirty dream? Was that why it didn’t make any sense?

“Your  **scent** , scent, is hard to hide like this…” Kissed at her chest, and held her firmly in place as her legs began to squirm. “You cannot  **conceal** , hide how badly your body  **desires** me.” She gasped in response to his  _ very _ warm lips on her chilled skin, and how his breath seemed to be steadily warming her up.

“I—I’m not—“ She wasn’t aroused like he was implying, right? She didn’t get turned on by the fucking World Eater! He was huge, terrifying, with the ability to rain hellfire down like he did at Helgen. He was monstrous, deadly, and his fucking voice was supposed to be the stuff of  _ nightmares _ , not something that melted her core.

He chuckled in response, which made her indignant and all the more aroused, the ladder of which she was still heavily denying. 

“You cannot hide it,  **dovahkiin** …” He was down to her stomach now, breath and lips tickling her. “But allow me to  **reward** , reward your courage.” She gasped as she realized where he was going next, his head dipping down to kiss and nip up her thighs, making her shriek. She had certainly gone down on a couple of men before, but they never really ‘returned the favor’. Usually they were too focused on their own pleasure and wanted to get right down to the parts they were interested in—if she was lucky the decent ones at least used their hands to get her off from time to time. She threaded her hands in his hair, preparing to pull him off her and demand to know what he was thinking, but she did so a tad late due to shock.

The moment his tongue hit her it was like fire. The good kind, anyway, though his tongue was hot on her as well. She gave a loud, throaty moan as he licked up her slowly, one leg raising up. Immediately he gripped her thigh, putting that leg over his shoulder, as though he had plenty of experience.

Where in oblivion did he even learn this? Wasn’t he too busy lording over Skyrim and killing people before he was literally thrown through time to the present year? She couldn’t figure out when exactly he penciled in time to bed women, let alone  _ why  _ Alduin would do something like this that cocky nords even refused to. He was on his hands and knees in front of her, on the ground! 

His tongue came up after a long lick and gave a firm flick to her clit, making her body jolt. She tugged at his hair in response, earning her a moan from him that reverberated against her cunt and had her positively  _ aching  _ for more.

“Fuck—“ Her head began swimming in pleasure, as his tongue continued. It seemed he liked to favor a slow, deliberate pace when it came to sex, and while she wasn’t complaining, it still seemed a bit odd. Didn’t men like the pleasure? He seemed oddly focused on her pleasure, even the first time when he got her off while whispering so seductively in her ear, even though she couldn’t understand a word of it. Another flick of her clit, followed by a second and third, had her whimpering. 

“Alduin~” She gasped, just as his tongue dipped back down to licking up her lips slowly, savoring her. She whined again as she raised her other leg up and placed it in his shoulder of her own volition, thoroughly enjoying herself. 

“ **Good** .” He paused to speak, breath hot on her even at her core. “Moan for me.” His voice was making her all the more weak, especially as he returned to his task, all the more eager. 

One hand was still buried in his long hair, trying to press him even closer, while the other was clawing weakly at the stone floor under her. This marked the  _ second _ time she had sex outside of a proper room and bed, and of course both would be with the smug bastard Alduin. 

“Please—“ She gasped, his skilled tongue rolling around her clit  _ perfectly _ . “More, more,  _ please _ ~!” Seriously, was his tongue even in this form more flexible than a normal man’s? It felt fucking  _ incredible _ . He took pity on her cries at least, continuing the motion with still surprising skill, holding both of her thighs in a firm grip. Just as her thighs trembled, he stopped, tongue slipping down her once more, making her sigh. He was clearly trying to work her up properly, rather than just forcing her to cum and being done with it. She just hoped he only did this enough to where it made her orgasm all the better, rather than teasing her until she was in tears.

Her thoughts were cut off though as she felt his tongue begin to slip  _ inside  _ her. She gave a rather undignified squeak of surprise, before biting her lip at the foreign sensation. It wasn’t  _ bad _ , just  _ very _ different to what she was used to as it seemed to slip deeper and deeper inside. He then began working his tongue gently, as though stroking her, flicking against her g-spot a couple times, before slipping even further until she could feel him rubbing against her cervix. She hissed and whined, squirming, before his tongue slid out painfully slowly and resumed licking up her.

“Divines!” She gasped, breathless. “Your tongue is fucking long~” He chuckled, a sound and sensation that seemed to travel  _ right _ to her clit. Alduin didn’t respond further, however, instead trailing his tongue back up to her clit, and began to roll around it once more. He found a good angle surprisingly quickly, and started at the same, steady pace.

A thought occurred in her head: she was getting eaten out by the World Eater. Eyja would laugh at this thought, except she was far too busy moaning and crying in pleasure and trying to pull his face even closer. If this was how the “World Eater” planned to destroy everything, maybe she was on the wrong team trying to stop him. He was  _ really _ good. He managed to move not too slowly nor too fast, and kept up just the right level of pressure for her. It must have taken her several minutes as her orgasm built up, but the whole while she was tugging at his hair, screaming out his name. Finally, with several gasps and her back arching up off the stone, she orgasmed and  _ hard. _

It was stiff competition for the mortal men she would encounter from now on. And Eyja wasn’t particularly  _ thrilled _ about that either, as she was supposed to be  _ fighting  _ Alduin, not fucking him. 

As she recovered from her orgasm, now panting on the cold ground, he moved back up, kissing at her stomach. She gave a soft whine of pleasure, slicking some of his hair back to keep it from tickling her. 

As rational thought re-entered her head though, she remembered exactly what was going on: that she had drunkenly stumbled into Alduin’s lair completely naked, and thought she was about to be eaten. In fact, judging by the way he did call her ‘Dragonborn’ in that dragon tongue of his, he even knew she was supposed to defeat him in combat. So why exactly did he eat her out?

“Uhm,” Boy, a question she never thought she had to ask: why did we have sex? Typically she knew very well why men would climb into bed with her. But this wasn’t a regular man, this was the World Eater and prideful dragon Alduin in human flesh. For some reason. 

“What?” He asked against her skin. With a voice like that she was never quite sure if he was annoyed or not. He always sounded kind of pissed off. 

“I suppose I guess I should ask uh,” Eyja bit the inside of her cheek. Best just spit it out and not focus on how awkward it sounded, the whole situation was confusing. “Why exactly  _ you _ want to have sex with me?”

Alduin pulled up, hands on either side of her head, red eyes burning down at her like a blazing fire. “ **Why** ?” He questioned, in that dragon tongue she couldn’t understand, but she did know it sounded like a question. “Because you  **are owned by me** . You belong to me,  **dovahkiin** .” He sounded so sure of himself, as though he were explaining something obvious.

She merely blinked up at him, before her indigiant and headstrong nord side came out in full force.

“Since when did I belong to you?” Sure, Fengr wanted her to ‘find a husband and settle down’ because he thought her head was stuck in the clouds and that she could barely keep herself alive in serious combat, but Eyja resented him more than _ anything  _ for that. It pissed her off so much when he kept asking her when she’d just get married already, if she really had to take the long way when walking somewhere, told her that she couldn’t  _ really _ be an adventurer forever, that she’d  _ actually  _ be happy with a nice home and family somewhere, so she just needed to find a husband. It wasn’t that he was wrong that she did just kind of want a nice house somewhere, and a loving family, something simple between bouts of exploration and adventure. What she resented about it was the way he always acted like the solution to finding a good life was to her to give up and find a husband to do it for her. That building her own life and future was silly, that she wasn’t good in ‘real battle’ by fighting from a distance and even using magic. No matter how important Skyrim’s women were and the fact they could be skilled warriors, a lot of men thought women were like horses they tamed and broke in. They could battle as much as they pleased but  _ someone _ had to help run the farm and have the babies, and really wasn’t that what women did  _ best _ ? Well she didn’t care what her brother thought, what other men in Skyrim thought, she was perfectly happy being her own person with her own goals, own money, and own story. She was the fucking Dragonborn, not a woman you got to own like property.

In short: he hit a sore spot. 

“Before this life it has been so.” He explained, expression unchanging despite her glare. “Your  **soul** , soul is mine.” He then moved down, pressing his teeth against her throat and she shivered as she felt how sharp they were, but she still wasn’t ready to back down.

“So you just think you can claim me as yours just because you want to? Because my ‘soul’  _ belongs _ to you?”

“Correct.” Growled lowly against her throat. “Isn’t that why you are here? Why you’re completely bare in my den?” He then licked a line up her throat where his teeth touched, soothing it. “Your  **soul** and  **body** remember alike. You belong to me, and no one else,  **dovahkiin** .”

“I don’t  _ belong _ to  _ anyone _ !” She grabbed a hold of his torso with her legs and quickly flipped him over so she was on top, but the stupid smug bastard simply smirked up at her, dark hair splayed out behind him. He then grabbed her hips firmly and began to rub his cock against her cunt, which was still dripping in desire.

“This is something you cannot change.” His voice was still firm and confident. As she was trying to force her hips to stop in his surprisingly firm grasp, one hand came up to the back of her head as he leaned up and kissed her roughly. One of her hands pounded on his chest, but it didn’t seem to phase him. “Eyja.” He said her name low, commanding, and that made her jolt and moan.

“Talos, you’re so fucking—“ He kissed her again, rocking his hips up against hers. Fine, two could play at this game. She growled into the kiss herself, biting at his lower lip in the hopes to piss him off, but he simply groaned deeply with desire. She could taste blood in her mouth, and he slipped his tongue past her lips, spreading the taste further.

“ **It’s amusing when you act like a true dov.** ” He spoke low after she pulled away with a glare. “Be proud that you’re the only  **joor** —mortal to taste my blood.”

She gave him as nasty of a glare as she could, spitting his blood off to the side. “Fuck you.”

“With pleasure.” He purred back against her throat, before slipping inside of her. She hissed and gripped his shoulders tightly. 

“That isn’t what I—“ She moaned, low in her throat, “Meant!” He was still big, filling her up very quickly, as every inch slid deeper. Seated on top of him it seemed like it was going even deeper than the last time, and she gave a hiss as he sheathed himself completely. He began leaving lovebites and marks against her neck that she knew were sure to remain for days. It took forever for the last ones to heal, and she felt like a harlot from the way people stole glances at her neck in the days that followed. 

“Perfect…” He groaned against her throat and she shivered. “You fit me perfectly.” She hated the way he said that with something close to tenderness or reverence. She hated it because it made her feel wonderful when he said it like that.

“Shut,” She raised her hips up and slid down in a smooth, quick motion. “Up.” He growled against her once more.

“Tell me how good it feels.” He was commanding once more, as though the previous tenderness was an illusion. 

“Fuck off,” She groaned. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing that he was an  _ amazing _ lay. “You’re not that— _ great~ _ ” Eyja whined out the last part as he thrusted up in her sharply, making her grind her hips down on him. “Holy mother Mara~” 

“You don’t sound  **convincing** ,  **dovahkiin** .” He licked a line up her throat again. “If you dislike it so much, why do you  **beg** , beg for it?”

She gave another whimper, digging her nails into his shoulders. “You’re an arrogant… Piece of shit… You know that?” 

“Arrogance,” He thrusted again, “Would imply incompetence.” Alduin bit down on her neck, not quite drawing blood, and listened to her scream. “I know just what I do to you, Eyja.” 

She hated that. She hated that he was right. She despised that she couldn’t stop thinking about him. But most importantly she hated that admitting that would give him the fucking satisfaction of being right.

“Fuck—“ She gasped, grinding down at a particularly  _ wonderful _ thrust. “Alduin~!” Eyja moaned right up at the roof of the cave, the sounds of which were being echoed loud and clear. 

“ _ Again _ .” He groaned. “Use my name again.”

“Alduin!” She also hated the way she gladly did so, and the almost excellerating pleasure of screaming out the World Eater’s name in ecstasy. 

“You’re  _ mine _ .” He hissed, his thrusting getting faster, growling low and aggressively against her in a way that made her positively  _ melt _ .

“Fuck~” 

“Say it.” He tugged at her hair next. “Admit you’re mine.  **You belong to me as my servant** .”

“I’m—not!” She protested, before he quickly shifted their positions, holding her hips up as he fucked her hard and rough. Eyja wrapped her legs around him firmly in response, hands running up his back as she clung to him.

“You are,” He gave a long hiss as Eyja’s hands clawed down his back. “You’re mine!” He then quickly smothered her lips in a kiss, ferocious and hungry. It felt like pure fire wherever their bodies touched and left Eyja feeling breathless. 

He only pulled away as she began to tighten up, orgasm approaching. The grip she had on him was growing stronger, her muscles tightening up as well. 

“Cum for me.” It was low, commanding, authority dripping off every syllable, and Eyja  _ loved _ it. 

“Alduin, Alduin, Alduin!” She began chanting his name desperately. “Please, please~!”

“Eyja!” He moaned himself, before she finally hit her peak.

“ **Alduin!** ” It was an honest to god's  _ shout _ of his name, thu’um bursting from her throat. Which was surprising because she hadn’t ever  _ learned _ to shout his name before, but that surprise really only came after one of the best orgasms of her life rocked her to her core.

Eyja could only whimper as Alduin continued thrusting, now fast and hard as he chased his own pleasure. She fell almost completely limp, twitching on occasion from the aftershocks of pleasure before she felt familiar heat erupting deep inside her, and Alduin gave a final cry of pure pleasure, the ground trembling slightly from his loud moaning.

“... Divines…” She could barely speak, panting harshly. There was barely a thought in her head she could focus on as she basked in the afterglow. 

Alduin pulled out slowly, his seed leaking out as he rested her hips on the ground almost gently, moving to mouth at her ear.

“ **Do you even know what power you have over me?** ” He whispered, and she could nearly believe it was affectionate. Maybe this was just as close to “affectionate” as his voice got, or maybe she was still not thinking clearly post-sex. “ **I want you for myself, completely** .” 

“You know I… Can’t understand you, right?” She asked, voice hoarse. He simply rolled her head to the side to give her a lazy, messy kiss, and she held both of his cheeks as he did so.

“Eyja,” He whispered as he pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting them. “I’m yours.” His voice was soft, almost inaudible over the sound of her panting, but that comment almost entirely knocked the wind out of her. 

Alduin was prideful, arrogant, dangerous, viscous, and a  _ god _ . Why would he say something like that?

“Alduin…?” She looked up at him quizzatively, seeing his eyes smoldering down at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“ **Sleep.** ” It was a quiet shout, all things considered, but the moment it hit her she was out cold.


	7. Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter uses a fair bit more of canon dialogue slightly modified for the story, but since i am bastardizing the lore and not just tossing it all out the window i thought it was most fitting. kinda mad a lot of these concepts are elaborated upon further in the game :/

The next thing Eyja realized was her head hurt. A lot.

“Hey hey, easy,” A voice spoke to her gently. “Be careful, you’re probably still not feeling so great.” 

“Where…?” It was too bright to open her eyes, so she forced them shut and a few small waves of nausea hit her.

“You were out cold on one of the benches, so we brought you into the temple, my child.” The voice sounded nice at least. “You seemed pretty intoxicated and a bit injured, but Mara’s light on you was strong.”

She processed the information, combined with the last things she remembered. 

Ah, temple of Mara. In Riften. She must have not actually gotten very far at all. She probably blacked out near the lake, did something else stupid, and end up staggering back through the gates only to pass out on a bench near the temple, too drunk to try and rent a room.  _ That _ sounded much more reasonable. Besides, if she actually woke up in Alduin’s lair she probably would have been far too hungover to have sex after drinking that much.

“I’ve healed you up a bit, but you should try to be more careful.” For good measure the priest cast another healing spell on her, and the ache in her skull was fading.

“I appreciate it.” She thanked him sincerely. If not for his healing she would probably be too hung over to function. She sat up slowly, blinking at the sight of the temple. It was very homey inside Mara’s temple, ever warm and welcoming. It fit Mara.

With a quick motion he pointed her toward her belongings, her bag stuffed full, and her bow and arrows in good condition. It didn’t seem like she was missing anything, at least nothing noticeable.

Eyja gave thanks and left a generous donation of septims for helping heal her, and made her way out. Her back and hips hurt something fierce, likely on account of passing out on the bench all night, and she felt sore and gross. Maybe she should spend the day recovering—sell some things, get a room at an inn now that she was sober, and then make her way toward Ivarstead like she knew she was going to have to. At least if the Greybeards didn’t know anything she could go back and yell at Delphine about it, and maybe the walk up the 7,000 steps would clear her head of all these horrifically lustful thoughts she shouldn’t have about the World Eater.

With some loot sold and her travel pack much lighter, she made her way back to the Bee and Barb to rent out a room. It was a bit small, but it was more homey to her that way. With a tub filled with warm water at her request she began stripping, taking off her cloak, and noticed she had on an Amulet of Mara. She didn’t think she had been wearing one earlier, but with a shrug she put it in her bag, and finished undressing. Maybe the priest gave it to her for some extra protection. She was about half way through undressing before she caught sight of her shoulders and head in the small mirror provided in the room.

Her neck was bruised up, complete with a few teeth marks. She looked closer, taking in the fact they were fresh, and very similar to the last set of bruises she got in the woods. Glancing down at her hips, she had bruises there too in the shape of fingers and crescent-like scabs in the shape of a certain man’s very sharp nails. Between her legs was a—very disgusting, but very real—dried trail of cum.

Eyja’s stomach sank. But that had been nothing but a dream—she woke up in Riften, where she blacked out! She didn’t even know where Alduin’s fucking den was, but it didn’t look like it was anywhere in the Rift, and she doubted he would have let her redress and stumble out of there, or carry her unconscious back to town. How in Akatosh’s name did she get back if that was real?

Sinking into the tub her mind was in absolute chaos. It couldn’t be true, but it was. She got drunk, woke up in a stupor in his lair, then ended up reappearing in Riften. And where was that Sam guy anyways? Did he just leave her passed out on the benches, without even her prize? Did she vanish while doing something stupid and wound up in his lair and he left? Where was he even headed anyways given he said he was traveling? There was just something off about him now without alcohol clouding her senses, and her new questions didn’t help. The whole night felt off, confusing, and wrong.

She scrubbed all the grime and bodily fluids from her body, before dressing in a simple tunic. She just wanted to sleep. Sleep for the next 24 hours, and then make her way to Ivarstead and High Hrothgar. She wanted to forget this ever happened, and go back to being the courageous Dragonborn. And the Legendary Dragonborn did not lust after Alduin, and certainly did not feel lonely apart from him. 

Come tomorrow, it would be in the past. It would be with all the other messy things in the past she didn’t like to think about, like the dreams she’d wake up from sweating and screaming with no recollection of what they were about. Like how alone she was after their mother died when she was only a little girl and her dad ended up walking away from her and her brother. Like the shitty way her brother made her feel when he took most of their money and left just like their father. All she had to do was keep moving forward and not think about the pain, or loneliness, or complicated feelings she didn’t know how to handle. And in battle she’d save the world and Skyrim would sing of her triumph for generations while never mentioning any of the parts of her life story she hated.

She closed her eyes, and fell into a blissful, silent emptiness.

—

The climb did one thing at least: it made her focus more on the biting cold than on her mental anguish and lust. At a certain point up the mountain it was impossible to focus on anything  _ but _ the cold, even with her nord blood. Flurries of snow were in her face that were almost impossible to see through and frost clung to her warm coat and cloak. 

As the halls of High Hrothgar came into view once more she felt immense relief, retreating inside. 

“Ah, you are back, Dragonborn.” Arngeir greeted. “Come to meditate on the thu’um?” 

“I suppose I could for a bit if you want.” She coughed, trying to get some warmer air into her lungs. “I actually came for something else though.” 

“Well we will try to do anything we can to help you.” Arngeir responded.

“I am looking for any record of a shout used in the past to defeat Alduin.” His eyebrows furrowed immediately.

“What—” She had never seen him so disgruntled before. Usually he was the perfect image of a calm monk. “Where did you hear about that? Who have you been talking to?” Eyja hadn’t been anticipating he would be mad about it. 

“Uh… Some people who call themselves ‘The Blades’?” ‘People’ was definitely a bit of a stretch, it was actually just two people, Delphine and a scholar named Esbern.  _ Maybe _ Malborn could be counted as he now tended to hang around the temple, unable to really go anywhere else given the whole ‘being hunted down by the Thalmor for the rest of his life’ thing. 

“The Blades, of course they would be behind this!” He was genuinely angry now. “They do nothing but meddle in things they do not understand—their arrogance knows no bounds!” His voice echoed off the tall walls, and another of the Greybeards peaked around the corner to watch the discussion. “They have sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom—have you really learned nothing from us?”

“Hey—” Eyja protested. “They are just helping me, and I don’t exactly have many leads to go on in this whole ‘Dragonborn’ nonsense to some degree. I can walk away from them any time I wish.” She didn’t understand why he’d be so upset, it’s not like she had an oath to them or anything.

Arngeir seemed to calm down a bit from that, sighing. “You’re right, Dragonborn. Forgive my outburst. It’s just the Blades,” He sighed, long and heavy. “They have a long history of turning Dragonborn away from the path of wisdom and knowledge. They seek to use them as weapons to further their own goals. Heed my warning, the Blades do not serve the Dragonborn. They never have, and never will.” 

Well that was an ominous warning that made her skin crawl. 

“Look, can you help me learn the shout or no?” She tried to push down the awful feeling it gave her.

“I cannot.” Arngeir replied. “We do not know it. It is called ‘Dragonrend’ in our tongue now, but the words of power are lost to us. We do not regret the loss either, as such a shout has no place in the way of the voice.” 

“Well,” It was as she expected. Pacifists and all that. “Do you have any leads on who may know it?” 

“I myself do not know it.” He glanced down at the ground, eyes heavy. “The only person who may know something is Paarthurnax, our leader.”

“Alright, so where do I meet him?” She didn’t know all of their names, but if one of the monks was Paarthurnax she just needed to ask him right? Though she was also certain most of them didn’t really talk.

“He meditates at the peak of the summit, rarely speaking to us, and never outsiders, so speaking to him is a great privilege. Only those whose voice is strong can find the path.” Eyja rolled her eyes. She was plenty strong enough in her voice, she was the Dragonborn. 

“Well I need to speak with him. It’s about the fate of the world you know.” Arngeir sighed, looking at her seriously. 

“Have you ever considered you were not meant to defeat Alduin?” That thought threw her through a loop. Of course she was, she was the Dragonborn, a dragon slayer, the only one who  _ could _ defeat Alduin. 

“The prophecy said I would though.” She responded, disgruntled. She was going to defeat Alduin and then put all this behind her—

“You should show caution when it comes to prophecy, Dragonborn.” He answered, still solemn. “Some are guides, but others are warnings. Are you certain you know the difference?” 

Actually, Eyja didn’t like it here anymore. She didn’t like the way he was making her think, making her  _ doubt  _ everything she knew. The Legendary Dragonborn kills Alduin and saves the world. That's the way the story always went. The prophecy was an even more concentrated version of the story, as she was the only thing standing between the world and destruction. 

“Why are you on his side anyways?” She dodged the question, instead turning to why he seemed to be completely alright with Alduin destroying everything they knew and loved. 

“I am not on ‘his side’, as you’re implying.” He now seemed only disappointed with her as he glanced down at her. “This world may be destined to end. Those who used the shout you seek now did not even stop him, they merely delayed the day of reckoning. If it must end, then we may need to let it, so it may be reborn.” 

“So you’ll just take the world’s destruction lying down?” 

“Do not confuse inaction with indifference, Dragonborn.” He was walking towards the doors to the courtyard now, slow and steady. “Often the wisest course of action is to wait and observe. But of course the Blades never followed this, and seek for you to do the same.” She had no response besides yelling at him for implying she was stupid for simply  _ trying _ to do the right thing. And that yelling probably wouldn’t get them very far anyways, so she tried to let it go, still huffing.

“Why do you hate the Blades anyway?” 

“We do not hate them. We distrust and fear them.” 

“Same difference in practice.” 

“Just because they look the same to you does not mean they are.” Arngeir grumbled. “They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom and instead pushed them to the path of conquest. The Blades were born of dragon-hating crusaders who came to Tamriel, and carried out a genocide of the dragons without care or thought. And now they seek to use you to do so again.” 

“The dragons are terrorizing Skyrim!” What was she supposed to do, let them level cities and devour whoever they wanted? “Don’t you think they should be stopped?” 

“That may be what you’re here for, Dragonborn. But defeating Alduin and wiping out the dragons are very different matters, and neither of those is required for stopping the dragons from harming Skyrim’s people.” Her frown only grew deeper. “Dragons were a natural part of the world, Dragonborn, but it was the Blades who sought to change it for their own ends. But again, we see that natural order being restored, one way or another. Perhaps the other dragons would have allied against Alduin if the blades had not acted so arrogantly.” 

She hated that he had a point, but also didn’t. Sure,  _ maybe _ it was bad to wipe out every single dragon.  _ Maybe _ if they all asked nicely they would have whooped Alduin’s scaly behind and let people live happily. But  _ maybe _ there would just be another dragon overlord killing people and destroying what people loved. Dragons were arrogant, selfish, immortal, powerful, and cruel. 

She swallowed the lump in her throat that grew while he talked, as something deep inside of her wanted to scream. Eyja was right, dragons were bad, and Alduin was the biggest and baddest dragon of all of them who needed to go down, regardless of what the Greybeards had to say. And no nagging feeling in the back of her head that something was amiss could change that. 

“You are not ready, but because of the blades, you now have questions that only Paarthurnax can answer.” Arngeir opened the doors to the courtyard. Out in the biting snow once more the other monks who followed didn’t seem hardly phased, as Eyja pulled a cloth over her nose and mouth, squinting. “We will show you the way up the mountain, past this gate. This will be our final gift to you, Dragonborn.” They used the shout, quiet on the ground, and the letters formed for her to read, before she then absorbed the knowledge from them. 

It felt heavy in her chest, like learning a new shout always was.

“Clear Skies will blow away the mist, but only for a time. The path to Paarthurnax is perilous, not to be embarked upon lightly. Keep moving, stay focused on your goal, and you will reach the summit.” Eyja nodded, before looking out past the gate. The blizzard seemed all the more miserable and dangerous past that point, as the Greybeards looked to her expectantly. She nodded back at them, and began her journey to the summit. 

It was in fact even more miserable and dangerous. The path was narrow, shitty, and she had to shout near constantly while her lungs were screaming at her to knock it off. If she took a break though, letting the fierce winds return she would either be knocked off or freeze to death there, so she kept putting one foot forward, slow and steady, as the sun fell and the aurora began to glitter and sparkle in the sky above her. At least the shout gave her a few moments of warmth deep in her core, though that feeling quickly faded as she continued upwards.

Whoever this Paarthurnax monk was though, she would give him props. It must be a pain in the ass to make this walk back and forth for supplies, and stay up there for hours  _ minimum _ to meditate. 

Finally, Eyja reached the peak, and the winds seemed mostly quiet up there, the air thin. Below the rocky cliffs she could see where the clouds over Skyrim began, and the whole world seemed so very far away. There was only barely enough air up here for her to breathe, and she was still cold, but it was breathtaking in it’s own way. The problem only came as she looked around with no monk in sight. There was a word wall, and a lot of snow, but no Greybeard. 

Just as she began to worry if he ended up dying and falling off the cliff, leaving her with a dead end, she heard the sounds of wings flapping. In a panic she drew her bow, one arrow in hand, prepared to pull back. The huge beast landed near her rather quickly, and she was more than a little relieved it wasn’t Alduin, though she could assume this dragon ate the Greybeard she was looking for. Maybe if she told them their leader was killed and eaten by a dragon they would admit there was a problem with dragons in Skyrim. 

“ **Greetings** .” The dragon rumbled. “Greetings,  **traveler** .” Okay, so he was willing to speak with her. She didn’t put her bow away, but she would be willing to not draw her arrow quite yet as she listened with suspicion. “I am Paarthurnax. What brings you to my  **lookout** … My mountain?” 

Eyja was frozen in shock, dropping her arrow and bow to the ground, though a moment later she quickly bent down to pick them back up, placing the arrow back in it’s holster and her bow on her back. 

“Going to be honest,” She stood up properly, more than a little frazzled. “I wasn’t expecting you to be a dragon.” 

“I am as my father Akatosh made me… As are you,  **dovahkiin** .” Upon closer inspection he looked very worn and ragged from the high winds, also missing part of his right horn, and covered in scars from battle. 

“So you already know who I am?” 

“Yes.” He chuckled low. 

“Why ask me what I’m doing here then?” She frowned, though he couldn’t see it from how her face was covered. 

“It has been long since I held  **conversation** with a stranger. I gave in to the temptation to prolong our discussion.” 

“Well,” Eyja huffed, “If you like talking with people, you sure picked the worst place to stay.” 

“It is best  **to extinguish hunger** . There are many hungers it is better to deny than feed.  **I will not feed them** . Discipline against lesser hunger aids in the  **vanquishing** … Denial of the greater.” Yep, he was definitely still a monk. A dragon monk. She’s seen a dragon that meditiates and a dragon that has sex, so surely now she’s seen it all. 

“Alright.” She didn’t quite get it, but she wasn’t just here to learn about his philosophy. If she was she would have meditated with the Greybeards for the next few decades while Alduin rampaged. “I kind of need your help though, with the dragonrend shout. Can you—” 

“ **Patience** . Patience,  **dovahkiin** . There are formalities that must be observed at the first meeting between two  **dov** .” Eyja felt both annoyed at being cut off,  _ and _ a little nervous. She didn’t exactly know what counted as her first meeting with Alduin, but she wasn’t looking forward to getting set on fire  _ or _ having sex in the freezing cold. 

“Sure. Formalities. What does that entail?” She sighed, hands on her hips. 

“By long tradition the elder speaks first.” Paarthurnax moved his head down to look at her closely, before pulling it back. His voice then raised in volume. “Hear my thu’um! Match it if you are  **dovahkiin** !” He then gave a shout, not directly at her, before his understanding flowed through her. She felt all of a sudden warm—a pleasant kind of warmth like a roaring fire on a cold night, or the sun’s warmth in the middle of summer on her skin. Even her fingers and toes grew warmth, and the numbness that was creeping up on them faded. “A gift,  **dovahkiin** .  **Yol** . Understand fire as the  **dov** do.” She exhaled a deep breath, finally feeling warm and comfortable in a way she hadn’t in a while. She liked it, this kind of fire. 

“Now show me what you can do.” He spoke, as she simply stood there, enjoying the feeling. “Greet me not as a mortal, but as  **dovah** .” She turned to him now, and pulled down the fabric over her face, giving a good shout.

“ **Yol!** ” It felt even better as the shout traveled up from her core and through her throat. The moment it was spoken she felt even warmer, color flushing to her cheeks, and she felt like giggling in glee. Paarthurnax seemed equally pleased.

“Ah… Yes!  **The Dragonblood is strong** . The Dragonblood runs strong in you. It has been long since I could converse with someone of my own kind.” He then moved his head a bit closer, crawling towards her while she giggled to herself, staring her face down. 

“...  **Konahrik** ?” He asked, as her laughter died down. She turned to look up at him.

“I don’t speak much dragon tongue or whatever, so you may need to translate that.” Eyja assumed he was asking her a question based on his tone.

“... Apologies.” Paarthurnax spoke after a short pause. “This old  **dov** thought you looked like someone else. Someone from  **long ago** , many years ago.” 

She certainly did, from the locks of blonde hair that escaped her hood, to her every facial feature. He saw Konahrik often as he came to report to Alduin, and she did not wear her mask in Alduin’s lair. There was little need to; the masks were symbols of power and tools of protection. There was no one to lord over in Alduin’s den, and nothing to threaten her. 

Konahrik was a strange case though, living with Alduin. For a while his brother’s behavior changed in her presence. Alduin grew less aggressive, and less restless. The skies had some semblance of peace as Alduin no longer came to challenge them often for his own pleasure and to reaffirm his own status as their ruler. Men did not cower in fear that he could arrive at any moment. Some joor were even born having never laid eyes on the terror, even in populated cities where priests frequented. But that wasn’t all that changed; Paarthurnax recalled the times he would enter to see Alduin in the form of a mortal, lounging beside his priest, content. When she slumbered and he was in the form of a dov he would often wrap a wing around her protectively, shielding her from Paarthurnax’s eye as though she was some sort of treasure he needed to guard with his life. 

He hadn’t understood the depth of her effects on him until her death. Alduin’s rage was blinding, all encompassing, and purely destructive. If dov fell or lived, he did not care. If humans were driven near the brink of extinction, it mattered not. It was reckless and selfish, but driven by a passion Paarthurnax did not quite comprehend. Other dov often wondered if Alduin had gone mad, as they could not make sense of the depth of his rage following one priest’s death. 

Kyne, up on the throat of the world where Paarthurnax came to rest and observe, confused of his brother’s goals and behavior, held some answer. Her voice was melodic and splendid, and she could speak with finesse that had him joyous and captivated as she spoke with him. 

Alduin was suffering from grief. An emotion seldom known to dovah, a feeling of loss when death occured to someone you valued just as much as your own life. Konahrik was not simply Alduin’s priest, but someone who made him complete in a way no other could. But that did not excuse his misguided wrath and violence. That did not excuse the plight humans were subjected to. And Paarthurnax did the only thing he could: betrayed him. For the good of the world, and for Alduin’s own good as well, as bloodshed would never remove the pain that ached down to his very soul. 

This dragonborn could not be Konahrik. It had been many, many centuries since her demise, and he watched her take her last breaths. But Akatosh could work in mysterious ways… It was impossible to know if this was deliberate, or coincidence.

If Alduin saw her, however, there was no doubt something would come of it. 

“Alright, I did the greeting. Can you teach me the Dragonrend shout now?” Eyja asked. 

“Ah.” Yes, it was just as prophecy said, what men sang about when he used to fly above Skyrim. What divine, poetic irony that a dragonborn who looked just as Alduin’s beloved priest did was the one here to learn the shout to defeat him. “Of course, you would not come to have  **conversation** with an old **dov**. You seek a weapon to defeat Alduin. I have been expecting this.” 

“So you knew about this for a while?” Eyja asked, one eyebrow raised. By now the effects of the fire breath shout were wearing off so she covered her face once more with a sniffle. 

“ **Alduin has been set loose by time** . What else would you seek,  **dovahkiin** ? Alduin and  **dovahkiin** return together. But I do not know the shout you seek,  **unfortunately** . It cannot be known by me. Your kind,  **joor** —mortals—created it as a weapon against the dov. Our  **minds** , our minds cannot… Comprehend it’s concepts.” Well that wasn’t helpful. She had been hoping he could just give her the shout and she could go yell at Alduin and not feel scared out of her skin. Nor scared out of her clothes. Yes, she certainly didn’t want to be naked in front of Alduin anymore either, and felt the need to remind herself of this.

“So do you have any idea how I can learn it?” If it was truly lost to time she  _ might _ have to take Sam’s drunken advice and flash her tits at him before beating him down. And she wasn’t looking forward to that.

“ **Patience** . All in time. First, I have a question for you.” He stared down at the mortal who so resembled Alduin’s priest, breathing in her scent. It had been many years, but there was something he recognized within it. If it had been the same scent the joor who died in the snow gave off, or was simply the unmistakable scent of a dragonborn, he did not quite know any longer. “Why do you want to learn this thu’um?” 

Eyja looked at him, rolling her eyes. “To stop Alduin, obviously. That’s kind of my job here.” 

“Yes, Alduin.” He knew it would come to that, but he needed to be certain if she was firm in her conviction. Her nature as either dragonborn, or as the second coming of Konahrik was unknown. He did not know if she even had it in her to hold the same hatred those who suffered until dragon tyranny had, if she had the will to shout it to Alduin and strike him down. He certainly could not picture the ever loyal Konahrik raising a weapon to Alduin under any circumstances, and neither could he picture a dovahkiin possessing her face doing so either. “ **Brother** . The elder brother…” Her eyebrows twitched. “Gifted, grasping, and troublesome, as is often the case with the first born.” Alduin had more arrogance and more vitriol than any other dov. It made him all the more aggressive and vain, and all the more merciless. When there was a priest to temper him, he was more sensible, more sane. “But why? Why must you stop Alduin?” 

Eyja groaned. She hated these questions. Paarthurnax was definitely a Greybeard, continuing to ask her a bunch of questions of her motives and feelings and what the right thing was and she  _ hated _ it! Couldn’t she just say she wanted to kill his big scaley ass and be done with it? She didn’t exactly  _ choose _ to be the last Dragonborn. It wasn’t a decision she made and gladly took up arms over. It was what she was stuck with. 

“I don’t know?” She shouted, exacerbated. “Look I didn’t  _ ask _ to be the Dragonborn. I didn’t  _ ask _ to have the power to eat a dragon’s soul and get stuck with the prophecy of whooping Alduin’s big scaly ass! But here I am, so I will, or the whole world is going to shit!” 

Paarthurnax laughed, and the sound rumbled across the stones and up her legs. 

“ **Prophecy** , prophecy tells what may be, not what should be.  **Prophecy is a weak guide** . Just because you can do something does not mean you should. Is that your only reason for action, destiny? Are you nothing more than a plaything of  **fate** , fate?”  Eyja trembled slightly, before growling. 

“It’s the only thing I have telling me what to do and guiding me!” She shouted, angrily. “I am the Dragonborn, and this is what has to be done! I have to fight him, I have to save the world, and if I don’t—even if I don’t  _ fucking _ want to—I’m not going to  _ fucking _ exist anymore!” It was kind of cathartic to yell up at the top of a mountain honestly. Maybe she should make a habit of this.

“ **Calm yourself** , be calm,  **dovahkiin.** It was not my intention to attack you.” This dragonborn had quite the temper, and was not stern in her convictions, Paarthurnax remarked to himself. “I merely ask the questions you need to answer before you may battle him.  **It will not be easier from here** . Your battle will not be easier than these questions are.” 

Eyja was still grumbling. The chill in her bones likely wasn’t helping her grumpy disposition. “So what? Do you think I should just lie on the ground and take it? Throw myself off the mountain? Let him destroy everything?” 

“Some say all things must end,  **dovahkiin** , so that the next may come to pass. Perhaps this world is simply an egg for the next?” He gave her a nudge with his head, sending her into the snow. Eyja cried out, before grabbing a fist full of it and tossing it at the dov’s face, making him chuckle. “Perhaps, still, you are not meant to defeat Alduin.” 

“I don’t want the world destroyed, so I  _ have _ to defeat him!” Was he trying to tell her she had no chance against him and it would be better if she didn’t even bother?

“There may be another path you cannot see right now.” Paarthurnax gave a breath of warm air at her, noticing her chill. The snow around Eyja melted slightly, and she did feel warmer. “You are reckless and do not think before you act.  **Foolish** . You act like a fool, so that is why you are  **blind** , blind.” 

“What other choice do I have? Should I just ask him nicely?” Paarthurnax chuckled. 

“Alduin did not always act as he does now,  **dovahkiin** .” Eyja blinked. Wasn’t Alduin always a tyrant? That’s what got his ass kicked the first time. “And he may not be so quick to destroy this world you know. Trying to defeat him may only hassen it’s end. And others trying to hassen the end may only delay it.” 

She sighed. She didn’t want to debate philosophy while freezing her ass off. She stood up out of the snow, dusting herself off somewhat. “I don’t want to just talk philosophy with you.”

“Then you have much to learn of the way of  **dov** .” Paarthurnax chuckled again. “There is nothing else to us but philosophy. It is no accident that we do battle with our thu’um, with our voices. There is no distinction between debate and battle to a dragon.  **It is the same** .” 

Okay… Then was he suggesting she  _ debate _ Alduin into not ending the world? And hopefully not get blown to pieces in the process? She hated trying to figure out what he was saying.

“I will answer your question now, as you have answered mine.” Paarthurnax would not keep her from information she sought. “Do you know why I live here, at the peak of **the throat of the world**?” 

“... Dragon’s like mountains?” She had seen more than a few dragon’s with their homes up in a mountain, and Alduin was also not an exception, as far as she saw. 

“ **True** . But few remember this is the place Alduin met his defeat. Perhaps none now but myself remember the nature of his defeat.” 

“It was the Dragonrend shout, right?” It was recorded on the wall, and the Greybeards still knew about it, so it wasn’t like it was lost to time entirely.

“Yes and no.” Paarthurnax spoke, tail flicking. “ **He was defeated, but the mortals were not victorious** . Alduin was not truly defeated, for if he was… You would not be here, seeking a way to defeat him now.” He had a bit of a point, which annoyed Eyja. She just didn’t know why he suddenly appeared now. “The nords back then used the Dragonrend shout to cripple Alduin, but this was not enough.  **His strength was unending** . It was the  **elder scroll** , the elder scroll. They used it to… Cast him adrift in the current of time, likely hoping he would never find his way out.” 

That… Did not bode well for Eyja. Even when they used the shout on him he still wasn’t able to be defeated? If she used the elder scroll again wouldn’t she just be delaying it further? The next time he popped up there would not be another dragonborn to defeat him however, and she doubted he would even fall for the same trick twice. 

“So what exactly should I do here?” Her voice was strained, anxiety creeping up on her. She had just been hoping this would be the long forgotten power she needed to beat him. Now though, she didn’t have much hope in it. 

“ **Time was broken** . Time was… Shattered here, because of what your ancestors did. If you brought that  **elder scroll** back here to the  **time wound** , the time wound… You may be able to cast yourself back to that time. You may learn the Dragonrend shout from those who created it.” He explained, though it didn’t fill her with much confidence. 

“And if that doesn’t work?” 

“Hm… What indeed?” Paarthurnax asked. “As I said, prophecy is a weak guide… I do not know what path you may take then.” She whined a bit at his answer, her anxiety only growing worse. “But you have much power,  **dovahkiin** . You may find success from the shout, and defeat Alduin. Or you may find a new road to get what it is your desire…” He puffed a small bit of smoke. Comforting mortals was not Paarthurnax’s strong suit. “You only believe your options are limited for your eyes are clouded by  **fate** —fate.” Eyja looked up at him, confused. “Prophecy and fate are not all that define us. Alduin was told his fate is that he shall succeed.  **He is strong enough to make it so** —he believes this with good reason.” Eyja turned away from him, looking up at the northern lights now, contemplating it. “Trust your instincts,  **dovahkiin** , not fate. Your blood will show you the way.” 

“... What does the Dragonrend shout even do?” Eyja realized she hadn’t even asked, she just rushed up here to find it. If she couldn’t find the old shout, she may find something else to give her a similar effect.

“I cannot tell you in detail. I have never heard it used,  **thankfully** . It was the first thu’um created solely by mortals. It is said to force a dragon to experience mortality… Truly an  **incomprehensible** … Incomprehensible idea to the immortal dov.” He blew more warm air on her, in an effort to keep her shaking form warm, not understanding she was trembling from nerves rather than pure cold. “It was born out of hatred for  **dovah** … By taking it into yourself you would take in that hatred, feeling it,  **becoming it** . Are you prepared for that?” 

She wasn’t sure, honestly. Sure she didn’t  _ like _ dragons but also… Okay she wouldn’t admit she  _ liked _ Alduin—he was an ass and he pissed her off—but it was hard to describe her feelings as pure hatred. At the very least, her lust got in the way of that, and left her desiring him against her will. Maybe she could learn it and use it against him, overcoming those feelings, or maybe her stupid lust would get in the way of it. It was hard to tell.

“I’d have to find out.” For now she was leaving this fucking mountain, and curling by a fire. Just as she was going to leave back down the rocky trail, however, she turned back to Paarthurnax. “Wait—”

“Yes?” He asked. 

“I have uh, one more question.” It may be stupid, but it would at least answer some questions for her. If it was just a stupid daedra playing pranks on her the idea of killing Alduin was at least a little bit easier to handle. “Can dragons—can you guys… Shapeshift?” 

“... It depends on what form you are asking if we can take.” Paarthurnax answered. He wanted to see why she was asking this without leading her on. 

“The form of uh, a man. I never really heard many stories about that.” 

Paarthurnax rumbled low, contemplatively. He knew why she would be asking—it seems Alduin had indeed laid eyes on her. No other dov could he imagine would show such a form around a dragonborn after what occurred with Miraak, at least not in a way where she would see them change shape. 

“We may.” He spoke. “We do not experience mortality, but may use that form to interact with our world, consume mortal food, and search the ground. Many  **dovah** do not choose to use it, however, unless they have to. They believe it is  **lesser** , degrading.” 

Well shit… That was very likely Alduin she had seen. Eyja still lacked the answers of why he wanted to ‘own’ her, as he put it, which was the motivation of Alduin having sex with her, but she wasn’t about to ask Paarthurnax that. 

“Thanks—” Without another word, she hurried down the mountain, still careful of the stormy winds and sharp rocks. 


	8. Siblings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally got to THIS asshole's introduction... ive been liking where im going with him so far and i hope the plot doesn't get too confusing

Eyja had elected to take a minor detour on her way to Sky Haven Temple, on top of her already very long trip to even find out where she needed to go in the first place. She thought the best thing she could do was maybe seek divine help because of her lustful feelings towards a world ending dragon god, and the best divine for that job seemed like Dibella. However Dibella wanted to solve this, whether it be dropping a new man who was good in bed in her lap or removing her sex drive altogether so she could save the world, Eyja would take it. 

Of course, things were never that simple in Markarth, and she ‘dropped’ a note, before meeting a stranger in the shrine of Talos. Things started to escalate very quickly as she investigated the murder of a woman she saw her  _ last _ trip to the cursed city, and she was honestly banking on it being Ulfric’s work when she found out she was an imperial spy. Next thing she knew she was being cornered by the guards and thrown in prison. 

Did she mention she hated Markarth? Because she did. A lot. 

She wasn’t in there  _ too _ long thankfully, only a few days, before she also helped an escape attempt orchestrated by the Forsworn, and became an honorary member. Which wasn’t at all what Eyja had planned to do in her life but hopefully they wouldn’t attack her anymore. The city being retaken also meant Ulfric lost some power in the war, and Eyja grabbed some supplies for the road and promptly left before Talos knew what else the city threw at her. 

Back at Sky Haven Temple, Delphine and Esbern seemed to have cleaned the place up a lot, especially with Malborn’s help. There was a decent armory, proper beds, and a training area set up outside, not to mention the 5 layers of dust were gone and there were proper  _ lights _ now. 

“You’re finally back.” Delphine greeted. She seemed actually rather annoyed, but also relieved at her return. “Did you find the shout or whatever?” Esbern had also walked up, a beaming smile on his face at the idea of finding out a piece of history. 

“... Not yet.” Eyja said, avoiding looking in Delphine’s eyes. 

“What were you even doing out there?” Delphine immediately began chiding her. “Do you think you have all the time in the world? Every day the dragons take more lives, ruin more land, and that’s not even getting into Alduin.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “He isn’t going to wait for you to find a way to stop him. He could end the world as we know it.”

“I wasn’t just messing around!” She was investigating ruins of the Dragon Cult, went to High Hrothgar, and even got sent to prison against her will. Sure,  _ maybe _ she dicked around a bit between those things, reluctant to make the climb, but she was back on track. “I came here to tell you I know how to learn it now. At least, I think I do.” 

“You  _ think _ you do?” Delphine was entirely unimpressed with her lack of conviction. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“The shout got lost to time and the Greybeards don’t know it anymore,  _ but _ ,” Eyja stressed, as Delphine’s scowl depended. “I can use an elder scroll where Alduin was defeated, and hopefully learn the shout by looking through time.” 

“How is an Elder Scroll going to let you look through time? Where did you even get this idea?”

“No no, she may have a point.” Esbern came to her defense. “The elder scrolls are very mysterious ways, and allow people to see the threads of prophecy in more detail.” He looked toward Eyja expectantly. “Do you know how you will use it?” 

“Well, I think so?” She knew elder scrolls were a bit of a tricky thing, apparently special monks would read them and go blind, or if you weren’t careful you might go mad. “An elder scroll was what was used to help defeat Alduin before. They sent him forward in time, hoping he’d get lost. Now there’s a mark on the world where his defeat took place, and if I bring the scroll back I should be able to see the battle take place again.” 

Esbern seemed very interested in her explanation, writing notes. Eyja didn’t feel very confident in her retelling, but it got the job done. 

“And once you learn the shout you should be able to defeat him?” Delphine asked. Eyja nodded, a bit hesitant. 

“That’s the plan.” She would leave her very… Complicated feelings about battling Alduin out of it. And also the part where she may not actually be able to  _ learn _ the shout. 

Delphine sighed heavily. “Well, we don’t have anything better to go off of.” She then began walking off. “I am going to do some more target practice. Try not to take as long learning the shout.”

Eyja accepted this was probably as good an response as she was going to get from Delphine. With that, she turned to Esbern. “Any ideas where I can find an elder scroll?” 

“Well, if I had to guess it would probably be the College of Winterhold.” Esbern explained. “They have a deep interest in the arcane, after all. Even if they don’t have one, they should be able to point you in the right direction.” 

The College of Winterhold. There was a time Eyja wanted to go there more than anything. She bought her first spellbook from the Jarl’s court mage and spent weeks looking over it and perfecting it. Of course when she showed it to her grandmother the woman only smiled and nodded before asking her to help water the leeks, and her brother rolled his eyes saying she was wasting her time trying to learn magic when she could be picking up a sword. Eyja tried to not let that discourage her and learned a few more, offensive and healing, but ultimately when she announced that she wanted to go to the college and become a proper mage, her grandfather and brother told her that only milk drinking cowards went to the college when they weren’t good for anything else. That the mages there were a bunch of secretive outsiders who didn’t even know what they were messing with, and led to Winterhold’s destruction. 

She spent the rest of the night crying after dinner while her grandmother chided both of them for being too harsh, and Eyja tossed the spellbooks out the next day. She kept the knowledge and would occasionally learn new spells, but ever since that night she gave up her dream of being a true mage, learning the bow instead. In the bow’s defense, it was very helpful and much more stealthy, so it wasn’t all bad, though her brother continued to tease her for not wanting to get up close to enemies as they grew up. 

It would certainly be an experience to go to the college for once, and see what it was actually like inside. Few people had seen it after all, and even if she didn’t want to be a student there anymore it would satisfy her curiosity, though she was resenting the fact it brought up a previously long buried, depressing memory. 

“Alright.” Eyja sighed. That meant she needed more supplies. Her fur lined boots for the cold weather were also in need for repairs, and it would be quite a trek across the country. She’d probably give in and hire a carriage half way, but Eyja did genuinely love walking her way most of the time. “I’ll be back after I use it, hopefully, unless something else comes up.” 

\--

Back on the road, and without Eyja’s knowledge, someone had been tracking the dragonborn across Skyrim. And the dragonborn wasn’t making it any easier on him. 

Fengr Kvalheim had returned after a long voyage by boat upon hearing that Skyrim was in the midst of a civil war. He was honestly looking for any excuse he had to get off the damned island he found himself on, with no leads of what happened to his father. Of course, after another long ride on several carriages to the Falkreath hold from Windhelm, in hopes to see his sister, all he found was their family’s home left abandoned. 

He asked around, and quickly found his sister, who he was currently beside himself with worry over, had sold their farm land, packed up some supplies, and left. She had claimed she was going down south into Cyrodiil, where she thought Fengr had left to, only for the borders to close because of the murder of the High King. A few weeks after the sale, they saw Eyja pass through once, buy some supplies, and leave. They had little clue what else she was up to, as the few neighbors they had in their small settlement didn’t exactly enjoy speaking to his sister. 

Fengr was glad she was at least stuck in the country, but this didn’t narrow down his search options. And he didn’t enjoy the idea of leaving his sister to fend for herself as she traveled around doing whatever it was she pleased.

Eyja wasn’t weak, he knew that. She was a pretty good cook, knew her way around the wilds, great at hunting, and wasn’t one to let any bandits shake her down. If she were the average nord woman with all of those skills, he wouldn’t be the slightest bit worried, he’d just feel sorry for any poor son of a bitch who tried to cross her. 

The issue was Eyja had more than her fair share of issues that the average nord woman didn’t have, and that made him all the more worried. 

When Eyja was only a young child she started having night terrors, something fierce. She would kick and scream, even roll off the bed and onto the floor, resulting in more than a few injuries. Even when she wasn’t screaming, she would start talking in a language none of them had ever heard before, on and on. Then she would on occasion claim to see or hear something that wasn’t there, around the old burial mounds or ruins, before breaking out in a cold sweat and shaking up a storm, sobbing. As it progressed, their father’s worry seemed to only grow, before he left them under the care of their maternal grandparents and claimed he had something to sort out back at his home town, something his father had left behind. 

He never did come home, and Fengr wondered why for the longest time. Their grandparents, if they did know anything, didn’t share it. For a time Fengr entertained that maybe he was dealing with the loss of their mother badly. Then he wondered if maybe he got tired of being their father, that Eyja was too much to deal with, and the neighbors wouldn’t stop talking like the girl was possessed. That was probably the period in his life Fengr regretted the most, as he was harsher on Eyja then, always nitpicking her, pushing her around, and telling her how she should be fighting. He was just a boy who missed his father, and an older brother in his rebellious phase, as his grandparents would often say, but he was never proud of the fact some of his bad attitude was born out of blaming Eyja for their father’s disappearance.

After Fengr was drafted in the war, he warned Eyja to stay home and take care of their grandmother, and wait for him. While out fighting, he saw a lot of things he wished he hadn’t. The destructive power of the elven mages, the brutality as the Thalmor destroyed Talos shrines and worshippers wherever they went, and even how brutal the Imperial army could be when some soldiers would slaughter whole settlements, children included. By the time a treaty was called, he rushed home to find their grandmother had already passed, leaving Eyja alone. And Fengr wanted to be there for her more emotionally, genuinely. He even wanted to guarantee her future. He asked her if she wanted to move closer to Whiterun, keeping the reasoning to himself that it was because people there wouldn’t know Eyja grew up screaming and talking in tongues all night. He told her she should get married, as wanderlust aside, he knew she needed someone willing to take care of her. Her condition  _ seemed _ to get better with age, but there was no telling when it would get worse. He feared more than anything she would go into a panic on the road from town, taking the long way back, and end up paralyzed in the woods for days, or even running while terrified straight off a cliff. 

Eventually Fengr would need to get married himself, start his own family. And before he did he wanted to make sure Eyja would be taken care of. If she found a good man he would worry less.

He’d been working on repairing the house while Eyja was out in the capital of the hold, when he found an old journal. It was in surprisingly good shape given its neglect, still legible. It was kept in a chest under a few loose floor boards in their parent’s old bedroom. As he read the contents, Fengr’s worries doubled.

It was their father’s old journal, at least one of them. In it he recounted many worries he had of Eyja, but also he recorded when he heard her mention one thing in particular: “Miraak”.

He’d asked their father about it once before, after seeing his face go pale, but his father simply took him by the shoulders and told him not to repeat the word ever again. Fengr didn’t understand, but he agreed, and never brought it up, nor mentioned that the word terrified their father to Eyja.

The journal recounted that on Solsthiem, where his father was from, always had strange things. Strange animals, strange weather, all with Red Mountain in the distance billowing ash and smoke. But over the years people began behaving strangely, many people going missing, and some folks began showing signs of madness as they swore allegiance to a being known as Miraak. His father’s father had them pack up their things and move back to the mainland, hoping to leave whatever madness was coming over Solsthiem in the past. 

But it seems they didn’t escape it forever, as Fengr’s sister seemed to be mad as well. The man likely packed up his things to try and sort out whatever was going on there, and hopefully cure Eyja, but he never returned. Not long after Fengr read his accounts, he went to Solsthiem as well, but his effort didn’t bear any fruit. All he found was ash, some tombs, and strange buildings he didn’t understand. He heard some people working mention this Miraak figure, but he couldn’t get any answers. If anyone knew anything about him they weren’t talking, and there was no way inside that strange structure they were building.

Fengr, now back in Skyrim, needed to track down Eyja and bring her back home. Every day he wondered if she was alright while he asked around for descriptions of her, wondering if he was chasing the right bow wielding, blonde haired nord woman across Skyrim. He tried just asking and traveling on foot, but that wasn’t getting him very far, so he instead took a ride down to Whiterun to join the Companions. The Companions were credible, which made him seem less intimidating walking around asking if anyone had seen a particular woman around, and also gave him more allies to help him search.

He caught wind she had been in Whiterun shortly after he joined. The rumors the companions heard from guards was that a blonde haired lass had helped slay a dragon near the now destroyed watchtower, and was named thane of Whiterun, but declined to stay and declined taking a housecarl with her. He groaned when he heard that—Eyja had a horrible habit of traveling alone everywhere, even when he knew better than anyone she should have someone to watch her back. If she had an ally he’d be _slightly_ less worried. 

Upon asking where she went next, he was told Ivarstead so she could go up to High Hrothgar, as the Greybeards had summoned the dragonborn of legend. Why would Eyja listen to them summoning the dragonborn? Because the guards swore up and down she devoured a dragon’s soul.

He couldn’t believe it. Literally. He couldn’t. His sister, cursed with madness by Sheogorath or this Miraak man himself, who could only really fight from a distance, and had panic attacks since she was a child, could not be the dragonborn of legend. She couldn’t really be out there trying to kill dragons right? On her  _ own _ ? Divines she was going to worry him into an early grave.

He went to Ivarstead but they couldn’t tell him where she went. He then headed back to Whiterun to do tasks for the guild, and continued his search. She was spotted nearly everywhere it seemed—Windhelm, Riften, Dawnstar, you name it. He even heard the Thalmor at one point were searching for someone of her description for some reason. 

He returned to Ivarstead for guild work when the barkeep told him the same girl who went up and down the mountain made the climb again. Thankfully the owner asked her where she was headed next, remembering Fengr was looking for her, and she was headed to Markarth. 

He stopped by Whiterun to buy a horse, and nearly rode the thing ragged as he hurried off to Markarth before the blonde made her way to the other far side of Skyrim or something. He hoped he’d find a clue of some kind, even though it had been a week between the innkeeper spotting Eyja and reporting it to Fengr, but he was just so  _ close _ . So close and she would be safe, and he could march her right back home and make her stay there. If she refused, he planned to force her to join the companions as well so she’d at least have direction and people willing to travel with her, and Fengr could keep tabs on her.

Markarth was chaos, though Fengr was getting used to that now. Stormcloaks and the Silver-bloods were driven out by the Forsworn, but a few people could verify Eyja left only recently. Wherever she was headed to, some hunters noticed she liked to head out near Karthspire for something, so he tried to think like Eyja. He picked a back road or path people didn’t really take, prayed, and headed out into the wilderness of the Reach.

Luck and the Divines were on his side, as while he was out on horseback, he spotted pale blonde locks whipping around, along with a cloak and bow strapped to the person’s back.

He rode up, dismounting from the horse quickly while tossing his helmet off, and all but charged her. 

“Eyja?!”

She whipped her head back around, and Fengr never felt more relieved. His sister was in fact safe and in one piece, so at least the mad goose chase across Skyrim was over. Getting her back home may prove difficult, but it was the little victories.

“Fengr?!” She didn’t look as happy to see him as he had expected. In fact, she looked downright pissed.

If Eyja could, she would have punched him immediately. He not only had the nerve to abandon her without a word, just a shitty note and taking most of the money  _ she _ had to earn while their grandmother was dying and her brother off at war, but he ends up grabbing her out in the middle of nowhere, scaring her shitless? The only reason she didn’t punch him was because it wouldn’t do anything to him; he was a true nord who had taken worse blows to the face, and punching wasn’t Eyja’s strong suit.

“You weren’t at home.” He then had the  _ nerve _ to look down at her disappointed like that? Her fist clenched by her side, still itching to collide with his cheek. “You even sold the farm, and told the neighbors you were going to Cyrodiil?”

“I thought that’s where you went.” He couldn’t have actually gone there, she knew that  _ now _ . The borders were closed, and very few people were getting in or out of Skyrim. “As you can see I didn’t get very far on account of the civil war.” 

“You shouldn’t be out here like this, especially not alone—“ He grabbed her wrist, but she quickly yanked it out of his grasp.

“I can handle myself just fine. I’ve  _ been _ handling myself just fine.” She glared at him.

“You could get hurt at any minute and no one would be around to help you, Eyja.” He sighed, his tone not unlike someone would have when they scolded a child. “Why don’t we head back to the house and you can take a breather there, or if you’d prefer I bought a home in Whiterun—“

“I am not just going back there, or to any other house you’ve bought.” She defended. “I have things to do, I can’t just sit around all day.”

“What kind of things? Eyja—“

“You would probably have a clue if you didn’t back up your weapons and left. Do you have any idea the shit I’ve gone through these past few months?”

“I’ve gone through hell just looking for you while you ran around all over Skyrim. If you just stayed home you wouldn’t have gotten into any trouble!” He raised his voice, as his face got red with anger.

Eyja rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even gone through half the shit I have by now.”

“Don’t even start with me, Eyja.” She sneered as he seemed to get all the more angry, but she was pissed off at him right back. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Oh you don’t want to hear it? About the time I nearly got executed? A dragon burning down all of Helgen leaving me one of the only survivors?” Fengr’s eyebrow twitched as his jaw clenched tighter. “Or how about the dragon I killed in Whiterun, did you hear about that?”

“Stop this right now—“

“The Greybeards said I’m the  _ fucking dragonborn _ and you don’t want to hear about it?” She taunted.

“Eyja I don’t care what stories you’ve heard but you are not any dragonborn.” That only set Eyja off more.

“Why? You think I wouldn’t be able to handle myself well enough to be it? That the divines were wrong?” Fengr couldn’t take much more of this. 

“If the divines wanted you to be the dragonborn they’d have given you a better head on your shoulders!” He shouted at her. It was the truth—if the divines planned on his sister being the Legendary Dragonborn they wouldn’t give her night terrors and panic attacks. They wouldn’t have her saying that infernal being Miraak’s name since she was young. They wouldn’t have her wield a bow and magic and travel alone.

“My head is plenty fine—!“ She was cut off as something roared in the distance, and her eyes immediately shot out to the sky. It was still slightly distant, but it wasn’t like any animal Fengr had heard before. He followed her gaze, to the distance in the hills. A huge thing was flying about, and he realized quickly what it was: 

A dragon.

Eyja looked back at him defiantly, before she took off running,  _ fast _ , directly toward the infernal beast. Fengr swore—she was always faster than him when she needed to be, it’s part of why it was so hard to track her across Skyrim, and his clunky armor didn’t help. But daedra be damned if he was about to let Eyja run head first into danger and get herself killed.

He had ran until his legs and lungs were screaming, but he was a tad late: she gave a huge yell at the beast, as what sounded like thunder erupted from her chest in a powerful blast. He couldn’t really let the shock of hearing Eyja use a shout fully set in when the beast seemed to turn quickly in the air and flew in their direction.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” Fengr shouted. Eyja meanwhile had her bow out, wild grin on her face, before quickly she went pale. 

Eyja had taken the opportunity of a random dragon attacking to prove she was the dragonborn and rub Fengr’s face in it. If she killed it and ate it’s soul he wouldn’t have much leg to stand on telling her she wasn’t the dragonborn and was too incompetent to be trying to save the world. What she hadn’t anticipated was that this wasn’t any old dragon.

It was Alduin, who likely had come to the burial mound she could faintly see in the distance to resurrect his fallen kin. Eyja shouting revealed she was there, and if their last two encounters proved anything, he would definitely be using this opportunity.

Alduin didn’t waste any time blasting down fire from the sky, instead landing quite quickly while Fengr was trying to catch up. Eyja had made an effort to flee someplace else before he landed, hopefully away from her brother’s eyes, but in hindsight it was silly of her to try and outrun something that could  _ fly _ . He still moved rather quickly on the ground given he had a much longer stride, mowing down the juniper bushes that got in the way, and pinned her under his wing once more.

Fengr, seeing the huge black beast tackle his younger sister to the ground, did the first thing his nord blood told him to do:

He punched it. He pulled his fist back, and with a yell, punched the black dragon square in the ugly maw. If anything else Fengr could get its attention off of Eyja and fight it himself. It seemed to work, but not quite in the way he was expecting—the beast turned from Eyja and toward him, then trembled and shook, before black smoke erupted around it. Fengr coughed, wondering briefly if he managed to kill or scare off the dragon given its form seemed to vanish, and he backed out of the cloud of smoke. 

And just as he was getting his bearings, a fist came out of the smoke and punched him smack in face as well, twice as hard as his previous one. He was disoriented as he heard bone crack, and a beat later the pain came rushing suddenly, sharp and shooting, from the point of impact all the way up to his brows and eyes. He covered his face on instinct, screaming in a rage as his vision blurred.

“ **Weak** .” The man stepping out from the quickly dissipating cloud spat, condescendingly. 

Eyja, who had rolled over and was halfway on her feet just in time to see the punch collide, sure felt a  _ lot _ of things at the sight of it. She had just been reunited with her asshole of a brother, screamed at him, ran right toward a dragon without thinking due to all the adrenaline, and then saw the man she had been sleeping with deck her brother square in the face just like she had wanted to. 

She hated to admit it, but on some level Alduin got just a bit hotter. Did that say something weird about her?

Alduin began walking toward Eyja, who was now crouched on the ground dumbstruck, when Fengr smeared the blood off his face from his broken nose and drew his war hammer up with a vaillant war cry and swung right toward Alduin’s head. Eyja shrieked on instinct, fearing for a brief second that Alduin might be in danger even though she  _ really _ should have been rooting for the scaly bastard to die, when he gave a half turn and grabbed the hammer with one hand while it was mid swing.

Fengr’s war cry stopped as he stared in shock and awe. Fengr’s strikes were powerful—he killed countless people with the same kinds of blows. Trying to block it with your bare hands, especially with only one arm, should shatter your bones. Several men had their bones cracked just trying to block with a shield improperly, and none had the gall to simply grab it mid swing. The tall, black haired, nord-looking man seemed entirely unphased, glaring down at him with smouldering red eyes. Fengr tried to yank the hammer back, but the man’s grip was tight.

“ **Such arrogance** .” Hearing the man speak clearly made Fengr feel bile climb up his throat. The language was very clearly guttural and rough, and matched the alien tongue he had heard Eyja use in her sleep that haunted hm for most of his life. “ **You will meet your end here, and then I will devour your soul in Sovngarde, mortal.”** Fengr could only imagine that was a threat given the amount of venom he spat it out with and the usage of ‘Sovngarde’. 

The man ripped the hammer from Fengr’s grip with a sharp pull and a sudden kick to his stomach, disorienting him for a brief second. The hammer came down quickly from the man’s powerful swing—one handed at that—and Fengr only  _ barely  _ managed to dodge as it cracked down on stone instead, splitting it in half and shattering it.

He pulled out his great sword he kept as backup now, nervous. It hasn’t been a while since he felt like he was in a fight he couldn’t win, and at least in the war he had allies. Here, he was the only one who could protect Eyja, and that was only making his blood pump quicker. 

Fengr kept running, dodging the hits from the hammer with desperation. The tall nord—who was as tall as some particularly large Altmer he’d seen, if not even  _ taller _ —had pretty good muscles on him and nary a scar on his nude form, and his movements were skilled but clunky, almost animalistic. Fengr couldn’t quite get in any hits, as the man seemed quick to dodge and deflect with better agility since he could wield the two handed warhammer like a simple hand axe. To top it off, as Fengr got close for a good swing, the not-quite nord man sucked in a lungful of air and  _ shouted _ , thu’um echoing out of his chest and throat, and hot gusts of fire spat out. He managed to dodge it well, all things considered, only getting a burn on his arm that hurt like hell, while the area he was standing in previously was scorched to oblivion.

Eyja slowly moved from shock to panic, as she realized her normally very skilled—previously believed unbeatable—brother seemed to barely be keeping himself alive. Alduin likely genuinely intended to kill the other man knowing his temperament, and Eyja couldn’t live with herself if he did. Yes, her brother was an ass who was responsible for half of her emotional problems, and yes she did just have an argument with the thick-headed asshole, but he was her  _ brother.  _ She didn’t want him to fucking  _ die _ when he had just been trying to protect her!

While dodging, Fengr’s luck ran out in the rocky terrain of the Reach, and he lost his footing, tripping. His opponent raised the hammer up, and Fengr saw his life flash before his eyes. Regrets poured in immediately. He should have been nicer to Eyja. He should have told her just now when he found her how happy he was to see her. He should have been honest about their father’s journal upfront, in case he went missing like him. Maybe he should have just stayed, and he could have helped her sort out all this dragon and civil war business.

Mid swing, the black haired man’s arms stopped as Eyja screamed behind him as she threw her arms around him tightly in an attempt to stop him before her brother was killed. One half of Fengr was honored that she would do something so courageous and reckless to try and save his life, but the other half was screaming because Eyja simply  _ wasn’t strong enough  _ to actually stop this beast of a man and all it would likely do is get both of them killed when she could be trying to escape with her life. Eyja sobbed into his back, trying with all her might to yank him back, and pleading that he didn’t kill her brother.

But then a strange thing happened: the man looked down at Fengr, red eyes blazing with rage, and tossed his warhammer to the side. Fengr could scarcely breathe as the weapon toppled to the ground, and the man lowered his arms, instead turning to pick Eyja up by the waist and toss her over his shoulder and begin walking. Eyja looked back at Fengr, her face still tear stained, as the dark haired man began carrying her off.

Fengr felt something inside him snap. He could feel the rage reaching its peak, despite how hard of a hold he tried to keep on it, and stood up, shaking violently. The straps on his armor gave way as it ripped off him, and fur sprouted. Eyja, who was able to watch while being carried, opened her mouth in horror and screamed, as a now  _ very _ fast werewolf that just used to be her brother charged.

Alduin noticed quickly, though he only barely dodged the 4 legged running beast with a quick jump to the side. He, as careful as he could all things considered, plopped her on the ground as the lycanthrope charged again with a mighty roar. 

Fengr’s wolf form seemed to put up a more even fight, especially with Alduin fighting bare handed. They traded blows, claws and teeth as their weapons, and Fengr got in a good slash at Alduin’s face at one point, blood now dripping down his brow and cheeks. Alduin’s inhuman teeth almost ripped straight through his thick fur to his throat, blood now trickling down the lycanthrope’s chest slow and steady. Eyja, meanwhile, was still mentally processing the horrifying transformation she witnessed, wondering when in the world he brother became a fucking werewolf.

As the werewolf began limping after a rough kick from Alduin, in the distance a dragon roared. The wolf stopped along with Alduin, and Fengr sniffed the air, snarling and whimpering.

Alduin scowled deeply, before looking at Eyja as the werewolf began circling him. He looked displeased, but he shook and stretched as black fog appeared again, this time leaking out of his mouth and growing in the air around him, and out from the cloud a dragon took flight.

Fengr paced, growling and snapping at the air as the black dragon circled.

“I will return for you,  **dovahkiin** .” He announced, and that pulled Eyja briefly from her thoughts. He then quickly glided away, onto the winds, and towards the other dragon in the distance.

On the ground, the werewolf finally stopped growling and snapping, and then almost seemed to calm. He whined next, pitifully, and then just as soon as the transformation had occurred, he shook as the fur dissipated and his limbs shrunk back to normal human proportions, and he was left in his ripped up pants and shredded remains of his tunic, before he promptly fell over, unconscious.

Eyja blinked. And then blinked again. She wondered if somehow all this wasn’t a strange dream. But then she remembered she didn’t usually remember her dreams and she didn’t have a great track record of that being true whenever she wanted to believe it.

She looked back at where her brother had fallen in a deep sleep, and then slid off her traveling pack. She didn’t have the strength to try and move him very far, nor did she feel like leaving him here to go get help in case a bear showed up or Alduin came back to kill and eat him. She pulled out her camping equipment and set it up silently, hands shaking as she did so. She then pulled him into the tent and got a small fire going, plucking branches off the ruined juniper bushes. 

By the now small, warm fire, Eyja sat down, pulled her knees up to her chest, and cried.


	9. Blood

The scent of juniper burning was relaxing. Eyja remained in a daze for a good few hours, but the aromatic scent of the plant’s smoke helped to soothe and ground her.

After two hours she cast a few healing spells on Fengr, but the man remained unconscious, so she made a short walk for some more wood, and then got to work locating his armor, hammer, and sword. She laid them all down in the tent by her brother, and continued to try and breathe.

She couldn’t tell if it was a fluke or not that Alduin didn’t kill Fengr. Certainly Fengr was tough, but it was clear the man was outmatched in human form. Even as a werewolf, Alduin could have grabbed him in his jaws as a dragon, and simply dropped him from the sky to kill him. The only reason Fengr didn’t end up dead on the ground before he even transformed was… 

Was it her doing? She didn’t know why the World Eater would genuinely listen to her requests. Fuck, she didn’t even know why he hadn’t killed her dead, ripped her limb from limb really. The idea she “belonged” to him was just confusing to her—she didn’t know why her life by nature just belonged to him, nor why he’d even want her even if it did. Not to mention what it meant for the prophecy of how she was supposed to kill him.

Right. The prophecy. Seeing Alduin actually fight made her tremble in fear. She handled regular dragons sort of alright. Some ruined gear, injuries, and a lot of arrows but she could down a dragon and eat its soul.  _ Alduin _ though? His fire seemed to burn even hotter than the other dragons, not to mention he was bigger, spikier, and could rain down meteors for good measure. Probably a bunch of other stuff she didn’t even know yet, as she doubted he was seriously fighting Fengr, and he was the eldest dragon who could command the others. If she had to fight Alduin she didn’t think she would survive; he was in another league of his own. She was  _ very _ aware now that the only reason she was still breathing is because he  _ chose _ not to kill her. 

Eyja whimpered on occasion, tending to the fire most of the afternoon. She hated this prophecy bullshit now, and unless that legendary shout also made her invulnerable she had doubts that she would survive in any match with Alduin.

Just past sundown, cloak wrapped around her as she stared into the fire, stirring was heard in the tent, followed by a groan. She got up quickly, crawling over as Fengr’s eyes opened.

“Eyja…?”

“You’re a fucking  _ werewolf _ ?!” She intended to ask him if he was alright, until her brain forced the mental image of his horrifying transformation back to the forefront of her mind as soon as she saw him.

“Ow…” Fengr groaned at her loud voice, rolling slightly. “... I didn’t want you to have to see that. But… Yes.” He finally answered, with a heavy sigh.

“Since when?” Did he leave their house because he was one? If so it would make her slightly less angry at him.  _ Slightly _ .

“It… It’s a long story.”

“We have plenty of time.” Fengr sat up slowly, processing the tent and fire, and the fact it was now nightfall. It would probably be safer for both of them if they continued to camp out there and allowed Fengr more rest.

“... Well,” he wasn’t supposed to reveal how he became one, but he also had to bring his sister back to the inner circle to see what they decided to do with her anyways. So long as she didn’t go blabbing about it before they got to Whiterun—and he’d watch her to make sure it didn’t happen—it should be alright. “After I went to the house and you were gone I wasn’t sure where to look. I traveled on foot for a bit, and didn’t get very far, so I joined the Companions.” That part made sense to Eyja; their father always told Fengr he should join when he got older. The war was what got in the way of it before. “And well, a lot of things happened while I was there in between looking for you. I saw one of the Companions turn into a wolf while lycanthrope hunters were after us, and back at the Companions they said I needed to become one too.”

There was a beat, Eyja’s mouth hanging open.

“The Companions are  _ werewolves _ ?!” Fengr cringed as her raised voice only made his aching head pound.

“Not so loud…” He rubbed his temples with a groan.

“Sorry.” She wasn’t actually that sorry, but if she did make him pass out from pain she wouldn’t get any answers. 

“They are… At least the members of the inner circle are.” Fengr looked disappointed. “I didn’t want to be one but I didn’t have much of a choice. If I can I’m hoping to undo it. I don’t… Like not having control sometimes.”

“That’s… A lot to process.” We’re they always werewolves? Was that why Whiterun always kind of smelled like wet dog? She was now a bit afraid to ask.

“Well now that I’ve answered your question…” Fengr looked to her seriously. “Eyja, what the hell was that?”

“Which part are you referring to?” She hoped he wasn’t asking her about why Alduin was carrying her over his shoulder. 

“All of it, but let’s start with what in Oblivion you thought you were doing running after a dragon.” His eyes narrowed, and his tone became harsher.

“I thought it was a regular dragon. I’ve killed several of those fine, and I thought if I killed one and ate its soul you’d just… Believe me.” Fengr sighed.

“You shouldn’t be so reckless…” He ran a hand down his face, before pausing.

“Eyja?” He asked, nervously.

“Yes?”

“If that wasn’t a ‘regular’ dragon, what was it?”

“That one… Was Alduin.” Fengr felt his stomach twist into knots.

Alduin the World Eater was so powerful he couldn’t even be classified as a beast or monster. The dragon might as well have been a force of nature, and from the blows it was said he could deal, that seemed to be the truth. The burn on his arm Eyja had healed had scarred over roughly, leaving a nasty reminder of the dragon’s hellfire that he had only barely been able to dodge, and likely the punch left his face in a slightly different shape.

But the worst part about it being Alduin was that only the dragonborn of legend could take him down. He’d always pictured the dragonborn as a powerful warrior, full armor, thunderous voice, and blows that could level mountains to compete with the raw destruction of the World Eater. Eyja was far from it—she was a good archer and even knew magic—but there wasn’t even a  _ contest _ between the two of them. Even if she could shout, this was… Alduin. And what made him feel particularly sick was faintly in his mind, he could remember the dragon saying he’d be back. Fengr was certain that if he wasn’t there distracting him, Alduin would have killed Eyja.

“You could have been  _ killed _ —“

“You’re the one here who nearly died.” Eyja cut him off. She was glad on some level he was worried, but also at no point did Alduin make an attempt on her life, thankfully. The one he’d come very close to killing was her brother.

“If I wasn’t here he would have been trying to kill you, especially if you really  _ are _ the dragonborn.” 

“He wasn’t trying to kill—“ Eyja quickly shut her mouth tightly, lips forming a straight line. She did absolutely did  _ not _ want to tell her brother that what Alduin was likely to have actually done was take her back to his lair and fuck her senseless. She would honestly rather die than admit that. 

“What was he doing then?” Fengr looked at her, upset. 

“Uhm,” She tried to quickly come up with an excuse, “Mocking me… I think.” That was the only thing she could think of to say, and regretted how stupid it sounded.

“He was just toying with you?”

“I think?” She replied again. “I don’t know, I don’t know  _ what _ goes through his head.” Great, now she made herself sound even  _ more _ pathetic. 

“How do you even intend to fight him then if he doesn’t even see you as a threat?” It was a fair question for Fengr to ask, and one Eyja didn’t actually know how to answer. She had been asking herself that a lot since her discussions with the Greybeards and their draconic leader.

“I’m on a quest right now to find the shout used to defeat him.” She’d just leave out the fact that it might not  _ work _ for now. “I need an elder scroll so I can learn the shout from those that made it and defeated Alduin in the past.” She was also going to leave out the part where they didn’t actually defeat him—maybe they just needed a dragonborn to smack him around in particular, and once she learned it she could defeat him once and for all. If she could learn the shout that is.

“Why do you need an elder scroll?”

“Look, the Greybeards said it would work if I take it to where Alduin was defeated, and unless you think you’d know better than them I don’t want to hear criticism on it.” When in doubt, appealing to authority tended to work better with Fengr. At her answer he shut his mouth on the subject for now, before sighing.

“What of you can’t even get close enough to him to use it…”

“Shouts have a good range a lot of the time.” Fengr didn’t look convinced, and Eyja really hoped he dropped it because she felt very uncomfortable talking in detail about how she’d fight Alduin. “Listen, I am not fighting him yet. But… Thanks for trying to help me out.” 

Silence hung between them as Fengr closed his eyes with a nod. Nothing but the crackling of fire, as Fengr struggled to remember all that happened before and during his transformation. 

“... What language was he speaking?” 

“That?” Eyja asked with an eyebrow raise. “Dragon tongue. It’s also what’s written in most of the old tombs and barrows.” She explained. “I thought it was ancient nord this whole time, but I suppose not.” 

Fengr frowned. That was only part of the puzzle really of why Eyja was like that as a child. Was this just part of being dragonborn? Did she have nightmares about dragons? Unfortunately, the contents of her dreams were not even known to her most of the time, so it would be pointless to ask. But if it just involved dragons, there shouldn’t be any reason to mention Miraak back on Solstheim. He was active before the dragons returned to Skyrim. 

“Why do you ask?” Eyja questioned after Fengr didn’t really respond. Fengr grunted, as he thought it over. His father told him telling Eyja she spoke in tongues in her sleep would only disturb her more, so he never really did, and he also didn’t want to mention Miraak and Solstheim quite yet. 

“I had never quite heard anything like it before.” He said. It was a lie, but a white one. “Do you know what he said?” 

“Uh, afraid not. I only know a couple words.” Maybe she should work on that. Might be helpful.

Another pause hung in the air in the air between them. Fengr checked over his pack and pulled out a healing potion for himself, after looking Eyja over to notice she was in fact unharmed. It was oddly suspicious the more he thought about it, the dragon was quick to try and bash his skull in, yet he relented when Eyja tried to stop him. Didn’t the World Eater try to carry her off? Why? 

Well, Fengr doubted Eyja knew, so he’d hold off on questioning her for now. 

“We need to head to Whiterun.”

“ _ I _ need to go to Winterhold to look for information on an elder scroll.” Eyja explained. “ _ You _ can go to Whiterun.” Fengr simply shook his head with a sigh. 

“Can’t do that. The Companions need to know I told you. It’s a pretty grievous offense for me to show you, and they need to see you personally now that I did.” 

“If you don’t tell them you told me it's not like they’re gonna know. I won’t tell anyone either so you don’t have to worry about that.” 

“No, they’ll know.” The members of his pack would be able to smell the lie right on him, even if he tried to hide it. Aela and Farkas would then proceed to beat it out of him given he was still the youngest of the pack. “It’s… A werewolf thing. But they’ll know.” Eyja groaned. 

“I don’t have a ton of time to waste.” Delphine was going to get on her ass for getting sidetracked instead of saving the world again, and that was if there was any world  _ left _ to save. She wasn’t sure of the timeline for the destruction of the world Alduin was working with. 

“Listen, it’s on the way from here to Winterhold. You can get some supplies and we can take a carriage ride after it.” He explained. If she got indoctrinated in there would also be less hunting her down. He could travel with her, and even if she tried to lose him in the wilds, he would be able to follow her scent as a packmate. 

Speaking of Eyja’s scent, now that he wasn’t fully human it was… Strange. It smelled like a strange breeze and fire and smoke. It wasn’t just the dragon or the burning juniper either. It was clearly coming from her, emanating off her as the source, tinged with something unnatural like a magic beast he did not know. He didn’t like it, but was willing to file it under a “dragonborn” thing for now. 

“... Fine.” Eyja doubted her brother would let her get away. She’d go tell the Companions she had better things to go than start spreading the rumor they were all werewolves. She was the dragonborn and the woman who rode the World Eater’s dick, she didn’t frankly  _ care _ if they were lycanthropes or raising a secret mudcrab army or whatever other weird business Skyrim had to throw at her. 

—

Fengr had no luck finding the horse he got off of. Poor thing was probably scared off by the dragons, if not eaten by them. But she was a Skyrim horse, hopefully she’d hold up well in the wilds. Maybe find her way to a farm. There likely wouldn’t be room for Fengr’s bulky armor and muscles  _ and _ Eyja’s pack anyways, so it was best they traveled on foot for now. 

Eyja asked more than once where he went after the war, but all he told her was that he went to their father’s home town to see if he could find him. There was no trace of the man, however, so Eyja was still left disgruntled as nothing was resolved. How he thought to look on Solstheim, and why their father likely went there, he kept mostly to himself for now. He wanted to explain them when they had ample time and Eyja wasn’t able to angrily run off from him in the woods and potentially get abducted by the World Eater himself again. Instead, he simply told her he wanted to check their father’s hometown first.

The pair arrived in Whiterun in the late morning. Most of the early morning market rush had calmed down, and the sun beat down warmly on the permafrost turning it into a slushy mess this time of the year. The blacksmith by the front gates was hard at work hammering away, and they didn’t make it very far when guards began making comments. 

“Ah, the dragonborn returns!” One shouted, and several others laughed and cheered a bit. “Companion with her this time. Out learning to hunt dragons with a master?” The guard asked him, and Fengr grumbled. There was very little dragon hunting that happened, only Fengr getting his ass beat into the ground while the World Eater supposedly “mocked” his younger sister. 

“You could say that.” He answered while the guard grinned under his helmet and walked away with a boisterous laugh. 

“Well, keep up the good work then! Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll have a dragon killing army soon.” Eyja grimaced a bit. This was part of the reason she didn’t come around Whiterun very often. It was loud, there were a lot of people, the mead had a weird taste lately, and all of the guards wanted to talk about it seemed was announcing she was the Legendary Dragonborn. 

She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head and debated digging out that dragon priest mask so people couldn’t recognize her. Her hands stroked along the smooth, enchanted wood that oddly soothed her, as Fengr hurried her along through the streets. 

Finally in the halls of Jorrvaskr she removed her hood, sighing deeply in relief. People in the hall seemed calm, as a large man approached. He had dark hair and face paint on, wide shoulders, and rugged. If she wasn’t cursed by the World Eater’s stupid dick she probably would have fallen for him very easily given his face and stature. Seemed she had a type. 

“So, I take it this the woman you were looking for?” Even his voice was a little rugged, and she strained to try and feel  _ any _ attraction for the nord man. He was hot, she screamed at herself, he was objectively good looking, strong, and also could likely pick her up and fuck her senseless! If she fell for another man maybe it would be a tiny bit easier to want to kill Alduin! But not a single spark flew, and all it accomplished was her remembering the bite mark on her shoulder that scarred over, marking her. 

“Aye, you’d be right Farkas.” Fengr sighed. “This is my younger sister, Eyja.”

“Pain in the neck to track her down, I assume?” Farkas asked Fengr.

“You don’t even know the half of it…” He trailed off, before sighing. “Look, I need to speak with Kodlak about something, can you make sure she doesn’t run off?” Eyja rolled her eyes at his comment. 

“I can.” Farkas said, as Fengr was already heading for the stairs. 

“I’m not a fucking child!” She yelled after him, but got no response from her brother. She grumbled to herself, crossing her arms.

“He’s just worried about you.” Another man walked up, very similar in appearance to Farkas, a knowing smile on his face and a clever glint in his eyes. He was a bit less bulky than Farkas, but still a fairly well built nord man. And still, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t find the man sexy either. She screamed at herself internally over that fact. Alduin’s dick  _ did _ put a curse on her, this she was  _ certain _ about now. Before, she was willing to brush off not being attracted to men in taverns now because they were never  _ that _ great, but these guys were built, handsome,  _ and _ fit her type almost a T. Yet here she was, cunt as dry as Elsweyr, and the very  _ thought _ of fucking another man besides the terrifying World Eater seeming dull and uninteresting. 

“He worries a little too much.” Eyja countered, still a bit annoyed, though she tried to not show it too much. 

The man was about to speak again when another voice, drunk, called out to her across the hall with a whistle. “Now there is a looker!” The dark elf called with a laugh, and a few of the other men laughed and whistled alongside him. 

“Haven’t seen a new lady around her in some time. Especially not one who isn’t built like a man.” Eyja’s fists clenched.

“Yeah I wonder why we don’t get many women in here?” The man in front of Eyja countered. “Almost like they have something to avoid in here.” The dark elf rolled his eyes, but a few of the members beside him shrunk down. 

“Can’t I appreciate someone’s body without you getting on my ass about it, Vilkas? It’s a compliment.” 

“Oh, and was the comment about the women of the Companions a compliment too?” Two women had come up behind the dark elf now, one in a helmet and the other with face paint on. The men beside him shook, and the dark elf decided to back peddle.

“Come on, I’m just messing around.” The woman in the helmet cracked her knuckles, before decking the dark elf in the face, sending him to the floor. 

“And there they go again…” Vilkas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Should we stop them?” Farkas asked. 

“No. He got himself into it—” The other woman stepped in to start wailing on him as well, dealing much more damage with her fists. “—He’s going to have to get himself out of it. Maybe next time he’ll learn to think before he talks when he’s drunk.” Eyja was tempted to jump in herself for good measure, but she was less good with her fists. She’d just shoot him in the dick with an arrow if he made another comment about her. 

After the riveting drunk beat down and several more minutes waiting, on occasion making small talk with the men by her, learning that they were brothers, Fengr reemerged. 

“Did I miss anything?” 

“Only Athis getting beaten down by Aela and Njada.” Vilkas replied. 

“That isn’t exactly news.” Fengr stated, before taking Eyja by the wrist. She rolled her eyes once more. He always treated her like a child and it annoyed her, but she would hold off on making a scene for now. He ended up leading her outside, and she gave a short wave to the twins who watched her go, as he walked her back down across Whiterun to Breezehome. Last time she was here it was up for sale and she declined buying it—mostly out of money, and partially because she didn’t want everyone know the fucking dragonborn’s address. 

Inside it seemed fairly well furnished and nice, much nicer than the old farmhouse. There was a nice hearth, stocks of food, a comfy chair, even decorations. 

“Make yourself at home for now. The others will want to talk about that sort of private matter with you after dark. We’ll be meeting with them in the underforge so the others don’t find out or interrupt.” Well it made sense. They probably didn’t want to alarm the others or let the secret out. Once this was settled she would get some supplies and head up north. Though she regretted that in all likelihood her brother would be following her up. She  _ hated _ traveling with him so far as everything was just awkward—he wouldn’t even let her have any fucking privacy in her own inn room worried that she would run off on her own. And not being able to get off wasn’t doing anything positive for her mood. 

“Fine.” She sighed, taking off her well worn leather boots. She’d need to pick up a decent pair of new fur once to keep her feet warm, after a sabre cat ripped a hole in her old pair she could fix. At least it wasn’t her entire foot, she reminded herself, but it was still annoying as all hell. “After that I’m shopping tomorrow. It’s going to take a bit to get up to Winterhold, and you should prepare as well. Fengr nodded, also shrugging out of his armor and boots to warm his feet by the fire. 

“There’s a spare bed up stairs if you want to rest.” What she  _ actually _ wanted was some fucking privacy, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. So instead she climbed upstairs, found the smaller bedroom, and laid down to rest. She’d take a nap, maybe read a book, and when night came they would go to the meeting. 

—

Outside in Jorrvaskr’s courtyard, it was quiet. The Harbinger of the Companions was equally quiet as he led them through, far from the merriment inside the halls. With a motion of his hand the rock moved aside not unlike what Eyja saw in many tombs. It was dark as Fengr carried a small torch, and her eyes slowly adjusted to the low light. 

In the underforge it was her, the Harbinger Kodlak, Fengr, the twins she met earlier, another companion she didn’t recognize, and a large werewolf. After they entered the lycanthrope’s tail began to wag as it moved to all fours to keep balance, sniffing at the air. Fengr greeted it with a happy grin on instinct, though the twins were more solemn. 

“Part of our custom is that no one is to know our true nature.” Kodlak began, and the smile was instantly wiped off Fengr’s face as he grew solemn as well. 

“Well,” Eyja replied, “I don’t intend to tell anyone. I’ve got too much on my plate being the dragonborn to worrying about that.” 

“Unfortunately,” Kodlak looked genuinely apologetic, raising a dagger, “I cannot simply allow you to leave like that and take your word on it.” Eyja’s eyes widened in fear, looking back at Fengr quickly. Did they intend to fucking murder her? The Companions wouldn’t just kill her right? Her brother wouldn’t just allow that right?

Her hand went to her bow, but Kodlak chuckled. “Easy, this isn’t a threat.” He motioned toward the knife as he spoke, lowering it, before walking toward the werewolf. “We wouldn’t intend to hurt you like that. But I must insist that you join us. We can excuse you rising in ranks quickly as being the dragonborn and proving yourself more than well enough killing a dragon.” The werewolf stood back on its hind legs as Kodlak took the beast’s long arm, making a cut. The wolf whimpered, as the blood was drained into a special sort of vessel, thick and swirling. She could  _ feel _ the magic in it, as the moonlight entered and danced off it. “Aela will be the one to sire you in, just like your brother was—” 

“I don’t really want to be a werewolf though?” Her hand was still twitching, eager to pull out her bow. The twins gave her a serious look, as did Kodlak and Fengr, and it became apparent to her that politely declining wasn’t on the table. And despite her capabilities, she knew she wouldn’t fare well trying to fight her way out of five werewolves and the rest of the Companions. 

“It’s unfortunate, but it is the way.” Kodlak tried to reassure her, voice soft and even. Fengr looked anxious, eyes darting away now as Eyja’s anxiety rose. “It will be alright.” 

She continued to try and find a way out to no avail. Her hand clenched, and then relaxed as she sighed. 

“Fine.” She didn’t want to. She  _ really _ didn’t want to. But no amount of kicking and screaming was going to stop it. Hell, maybe this was part of “destiny” and being a werewolf would help her kick Alduin’s ass, and she could work on a way of reversing it. And the whole journey up to Winterhold she would chew her brother out over this angrily, as it was  _ his _ fault she was in this mess to begin with. Not to mention he fucking  _ lied _ , knowing they were going to turn her and not simply “talk it out” like he led her to believe. 

Eyja approached the basin with blood, her stomach churning. The magic had a feeling of corruption all laced inside it, leaking out from it. 

“Drink, and your initiation will begin.” She took a deep breath in, and grabbed the mug provided to her, scooping out the blood. The wolf, Aela, looked up at her with a friendly glint in her eyes and a few wags of her tail as her ears went back in a friendly gesture. At least  _ someone _ was having a good time here. 

Eyja scooped the blood out into a mug and raised it to her lips. She felt nauseous just looking at it, but she still had to do it, a fact she was getting more angry about by the second. She stopped breathing through her nose in the hopes it would help it not taste as strong, and quickly began gulping it down. 

Finished, she tossed the mug aside, and then waited. It didn’t seem to be creeping it’s way back up her throat like she feared, at least. Eyja waited, expectantly, while the others seemed to be eying her confused. 

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, pain shot through her and she screamed, falling to her knees. Fengr rushed to her side first while the twins moved closer, and Fengr looked to Kodlak. She tried to hear what he was saying, but there was a sharp ringing in her ears as pain shot through her skull, down her spine, and then right back up to her heart. She opened her mouth to scream again, but instead all she could do was gasp, unable to breathe properly.

Her vision went black around the edges as the others seemed unsure what to do, all the while Eyja was just begging for this to stop. Her heart pounded, harder and harder, as the pain grew with intensity. Finally, a voice echoed in her head.

“ _ Hm. Looks as though your soul already belongs to someone pretty greedy… _ ” The voice was gruff and annoyed. “ _ If you want my power, you’ll have to reject the one you already have. So make your choice, mortal. _ ” She gasped again as her vision blurred and tears began spilling. “ _ Do you wish to be my hunting hound? Or do you want to serve your old master? _ ” A face flashed through her mind, draconic in nature, a familiar curve of horns and glowing red eyes. Her hands dragged across her face in desperation. Where was her mask? Where was it?  _ Who had taken it this time?  _

“ _ Hurry up already. _ ” She hissed and screamed again, angrily, as her body writhed. She wasn’t about to betray him, her king. She would sooner die than break her oath. Eyja tried to scream as much, but it came out garbled in her agony. 

“ _ So be it then. _ ” Finally, the pain was then centered on her stomach as a wave of nausea hit her as hard as a giant’s club. She instantly doubled over, expelling the cursed blood from her body by loudly vomiting, before sobbing. A hand was there pulling her wavy hair out of her face as she quickly emptied the rest of the contents of her stomach for good measure, her whole body convulsing. Why had she drank that? Why did she think she could hope to break her oath—

“Eyja, speak to me.” The voice was familiar, though she couldn’t place why. Two rough hands cupped her cheeks as her eyes focused on a face, but it wasn’t the face she had been hoping to see. She snarled, kicking weakly, but someone else grabbed her limbs. “Eyja, shh, it’s alright…” The man tried to soothe her as she panted, before she sharply turned her head to throw up bile, her whole body trembling as she did so. 

“Eyja…” Her vision was growing even more dim as the fire seemed to be settling her stomach. All she wanted more than anything right now was to see him, her king, her god, her love. Her eyelids felt so heavy too, her energy thoroughly drained, and she quickly fell unconscious. 

—

_ “Eyja.” The voice was exactly one she had been desperately trying to hear. She stumbled in the dark, hands reaching out, until they collided with flesh. Her arms wrapped around his much larger form in a tight embrace, face pressed against his chest.  _

_ “Alduin.” She already knew who it was without asking. Of course she would, whether dovah or man she would know him the instant he called for her. He quickly nuzzled into her hair, holding her equally as tightly against him, and she could hear the drum of his strong heart against her ear.  _

_ “You reek of daedra again…” He grumbled, “What happened?” Always worried about her, but part of her liked it when it was him. Alduin was the king of all of the realm and commanded men and dragons alike, so his concern was a real rarity.  _

_ “I… Don’t know.” She didn’t. She couldn’t recall what had happened or what daedric prince it was. She must have drank cursed blood though—was it Molag Bal? Hircine? He still growled at her answer.  _

_ “I’ll hunt them down myself if a foolish daedra thinks they can have you.” He then bent his body more so he could nuzzle into her neck, leaving marks.  _

_ “You already know I’m yours.” She would never give her soul to another, daedric prince or not. Even if beaten into submission or tortured, she wouldn’t give him up. Didn’t he already know that after Miraak— _

_ Miraak. Yes, Alduin rescued her didn’t he? But she didn’t recall anything after that. Her head hurt as she strained to remember, whimpering in agony as it became very hard to think.  _

_ “Eyja...” He held her head gently. It was so dark, wherever they were, and all she wanted was to see his face once more. She moved her hands up to cup his cheeks, stroking her thumbs along his cheekbones and she tried to will her vision to see in this lightless void. She touched his cheeks first, and then her fingers reached up to trace his brow, his nose, his jaw, and even his lips. She pressed her forehead to his, breathing in the smoke on his breath, primal and warm. Eyja knew this scent anywhere, and even without her eyes he overwhelmed every other sense with his presence. Yes, she didn’t have to think about anything else so painful right now, not with him like this. She could ask questions like that later. _

_ He kissed her, slow and deliberate. She missed his lips, somehow. She didn’t have a clue when the last time he must have kissed her had been, but every slow movement of lips and tongue against hers was welcomed. One of her hands left his face as she began to run it through his hair, feeling the long, silky strands with reverence.  _

_ “I missed you…” She whispered against his lips as he pulled away, and she was rewarded with a soft groan of desire from him.  _

_ “I need you.” He replied back. “Eyja,” He gasped softly, pressing himself against her.  _

_ Eyja smiled knowingly in the darkness. “Then take me.” She replied, teasingly, earning a louder groan as the man quickly picked her up bridal style, before laying her down on something more comfortable. He wasted no time stripping her either, pulling off the layers of leather roughly, hands exploring each inch of newly exposed skin. She purred against him as his body smothered hers, keeping the cold out, and captured her lips again.  _

_ “Say you’re mine.” He commanded as he pulled away once more, breathless. _

_ “I’m yours.” She replied without any hesitation. _

_ “You are my priest.” He stated, and she nodded as he held her jaw, one hand sliding down her stomach. _

_ “I am your priest.” He let go over her jaw, and she moved up to his collarbone and neck. _

_ “You are my servant.”  _

_ “I am your servant.” She smiled against his skin as she began to press kisses to it. How could she be anything other than a willing servant for him? Her lover was her god, and even if he had a stubborn streak and ego, it was in his nature. He knew more than anything how to be good to her, to treat her right, and respect her when it mattered.  _

_ He pulled her legs up, and she gasped as his cock began to rock against her. Usually he was a bit more patient, but instead he groaned loudly as he did so. She was already quite wet, and she gasped and moaned at every brush against her clit, clinging to him tightly as he held her thighs.  _

_ “Eyja…” He whispered, rocking his body. Typically he was more passionate, rather than quite as gentle. She wondered briefly if it had been sometime since they laid together, and that was why he was showing such tenderness. It wasn’t unwelcomed though, as she felt pretty on edge before she heard his voice.  _

_ “Alduin,” She whined as he once again hit her clit, her leg twitching. His teasing was becoming a bit frustrating, and she showed it by nipping at his shoulder and neck. “Hurry.” She whispered in his ear, making him shudder, just as she knew it would. He quickly pulled back, lining himself up, before he began sliding inside. That too was slow, almost teasingly slow, as though he was trying to ensure she would memorize the feeling.  _

_ Foolish, she teased in her mind affectionately, didn’t he already know she did that a long time ago?  _

_ Finally sheathed nearly completely, he slid out a bit and rocked against her, before sliding back inside. She moaned softly as he began to set a very teasing pace, in and out. _

_ “Faster,” She whispered. “Please.”  _

_ “Of course.” He replied back, voice tender, or at least as tender as the World Eater could manage. Alduin pressed his forehead against hers again as his hips sped up. She rocked her hips against him in return, gasping and moaning in pleasure as he worked up to a good pace now, until he used her hair to move her head and began marking her with bites. It hurt a bit, like always, but the pain only made it feel all the better.  _

_ “You’re mine~” He moaned against her, voice rough, and she could hear the desperation in his voice.  _

_ “I’m yours~” She repeated, before moaning loudly as he bit on her shoulder. It felt so wonderful to be in his arms again, to be held and kissed by him, to have him filling her. Even his teeth buried in her spin were more than welcomed. “I love you, I love you~” She moaned which made his hips speed up even more.  _

_ “Eyja~!” He groaned, before growling and pulling up slightly. She could feel it twitch inside of her, and she knew he was close. Eyja moved up to press kisses to his neck, biting and sucking wherever she could. It was harder for her teeth to pierce his skin given it was stronger than a mortals, but he still moaned with pure pleasure at the action. She sucked, disappointed she couldn’t see the mark she left on him quite yet in this darkness, as his volume only climbed higher.  _

_ Finally, he was at a brutal pace, fast and rough as he pounded into her with little control. She clung to him tightly as he clutched the furs under her, and she moaned sweetly in his ear to help him along. With a loud cry, near a roar, he came long and hard. It was always so warm inside her, and every twitch of his cock made her shudder and whine. By the time he pulled out she didn’t need to see to know it was already spilling out of her.  _

_ “Your turn.” He spoke simply, after recovering. Right, she taught him it was proper to make his partner climax as well, after he caught her masturbating after sex earlier on in their relationship. He moved her so she was seated in his lap, and slid his hand down her stomach while she rested her head against his chest. His hands were just as she remembered, stroking up her, before fingering her slightly, and if she had to guess it was to revel in how thoroughly he filled her up. Finally, his fingers slid up to her clit, rolling around it.  _

_ “Alduin~” She moaned softly against his chest, holding his other arm that was keeping her legs apart. He moved down to bite on her neck playfully as his hand sped up.  _

_ “I’ve got you.” His voice was low, and she whined. She partially hated how him holding her really did make her this weak; she wanted to be a bit stronger, at least for his sake. Her leg twitched as he set a good speed and pressure, gasping and whining as he worked to get her off. Divines, she just wanted to climax from his touch right now. How long  _ had _ it been since she got to feel this?  _

_ “Please,” She begged, “Please, please, please~” She repeated as her orgasm built up. He licked the shell of her sensitive ear, making her hiss through her teeth as her hips squirmed.  _

_ Her back arched as the pleasure reached its peak, and he forced her to ride it out. His hand only slowed when she slumped back down against his chest, panting erratically, thoroughly pleasured. He tilted her head back and kissed her in a slow, lazy kiss, with his arms still firmly wrapped around her.  _

_ “... I’m yours.” He whispered as he finally pulled away, making her smile. He had only said so on the rare occasion, as it was hard for the World Eater to humble himself enough to do so. She moved up to nuzzle against his cheek.  _

_ “I love you, Alduin.” He made a content grumble, low in his chest, not unlike the sounds he made in his dragon form. She was now thoroughly exhausted, and leaned her head against his chest, taking in the beating of his heart, her breath evening out. She was safe there, in the World Eater’s arms. _


	10. Companions

When Eyja opened her bleary eyes she was thoroughly confused. Her whole body ached, especially her head, but a different kind of pain then what she experienced when hung over. Not to mention her dreams were rarely remembered, usually just completely gone from her memory. This one she only remembered vaguely. Most of the words she couldn’t call, but the subject…

Well, now she has had a genuine sex dream about Alduin. That much she knew. Or at least, she was  _ hoping _ it was a dream. She’d need to check when she had the chance. Somehow she felt a little  _ too  _ familiar with the idea and excited about it, which made her mad. She struggled to remember what happened before she fell unconscious, but it only made her head pound more. 

Lets see… There were the Companions, and a werewolf… And they wanted her to drink blood. Oh, and her brother knew this and deliberately kept it from her. After she was basically forced to drink lycanthrope blood, the next thing she knew she was in agonizing pain, and she believed she heard some strange voice speaking to her, though it wasn’t off the table that it might have been just a pain induced hallucination. 

She groaned and attempted to get up, her legs weak, until they buckled under her the moment she tried to put her weight on them. Great. Whatever happened it  _ really _ did a number on her and she wasn’t happy about it. 

“Eyja?!” She recognized that voice as Fengr, as the man quickly came rushing up to the door and into her room. “Are you alright?” 

“I feel like shit.” Eyja answered. “Like a giant sent me flying with his club and somehow I survived after breaking every bone in my body. But otherwise, perfectly fine.” He certainly looked worried, but he frankly deserved it. Her shitty condition was his fault. Fengr helped her up and back onto the bed, clearly frazzled. 

“So…” She asked, voice hoarse, “Am I a werewolf now?” 

“No—” Fengr swore under his breath, looking away. “No, something stopped the ritual.” Eyja raised an eyebrow.

“What did?” 

“Well you doubled over in pain, screamed bloody murder, and then threw it all up for one.” Fengr answered. That at least explained the horrible taste in her mouth and why her voice sounded awful. “But we don’t know why that happened. It’s never happened before.” 

She glared at him. “I’m not doing that again.” If they intended to make her keep trying to be a werewolf she was just going to leave. Eyja was perfectly content being a wanted woman in Whiterun and being hunted down by the Companions, so long as it meant never doing that again.

“I don’t think the others want to  _ try _ again. Your screaming just about got the attention of all of Whiterun.” He sighed. “I had to tell them you broke your leg sparing with Farkas and we were setting it as an excuse, but they kept trying to bring in more healers since the city’s damn hero was injured.” 

“Well it’s your fault.” She spat out, annoyed. If he wanted her to reassure him or apologize he wasn’t getting it. She felt like absolute shit, didn’t want to become a werewolf to begin with, and to top it all off had a weird sex dream about Alduin she wasn’t proud of. 

“I was just—” He sighed, frustrated. “No, no, you’re right this time…” He ran a hand through his hair anxiously. “If I hadn’t lost control back in the Reach you wouldn’t have seen anything, and you wouldn’t have had to go through this at all. It is my fault.” He actually looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry, Eyja.” 

Fengr wasn’t one to apologize. Typically growing up he would brush off responsibility for his actions, or their grandparents told her he was just a teenage boy messing around. Once they started reaching adulthood he simply talked to her less and less, never bringing up really what had happened in the past, and after the war he was just a solemn, depressed veteran who didn’t seem to know where he wanted to go in life. Eyja thought she should be happy about the apology, as  _ finally _ he was willing to admit he had been a dick to her and it wasn’t her fucking fault. It  _ was  _ validating that he was the one who fucked up rather than it being her fault for not walking on eggshells around him. But really, what she really felt was just plain awkward. It was so rare to hear it left her feeling uncomfortable, and the instinct to comfort him and say she was the one in the wrong and deflect it back to her crept up in the back of her skull, which she forced down. 

“What’s done is done.” Is the only answer she could give him. “Just don’t mope around about it.” She was going to need his help in recovery, and now  _ definitely _ was going to need him to make the journey up north. Even with her good constitution, this wasn’t on the same level as a bad hangover or rough battle. She felt exhausted in a way she never had before.

“The Companions still want to talk to you though, about this.” Fengr said. “For real this time.” 

“Oh, you’re not lying this time?” She asked, sarcastically. “Sure they don’t want to try vampire blood?” Fengr pursed his lips as he took the insults. 

“No, they do just want to talk. They can’t use you being part of the pack to guarantee your loyalty, but they want to know why your body rejected it and find out your motivations.” That Eyja was fine with, though she wished that was their  _ first _ method. Eyja sighed. 

“Alright, alright.” 

—

They walked back to the hall very slowly after dark. Not many people were out, and with her hood up, the guards didn’t really pay her much mind. She was walking slowly, as her whole body still felt drained of strength, and Fengr had to slow his pace as she nearly limped all the way to Jorrvaskr. 

Immediately when they entered she really went into her limp, playing it up more. One of the other companions elbowed Farkas in the ribs making a comment about “not knowing how to let a woman win”. Now, they headed downstairs while the others for the most part continued drinking as though nothing was wrong. 

Kodlak waited for them under the hall, giving Eyja a polite, apologetic smile. She awkwardly stared back, unsure of what expression to give him in return, as he led them further back to the harbinger’s room. 

“Do you know what happened?” Fengr asked as soon as the doors closed. Kodlak sighed, shaking his head. 

“Short of her already having a contract with a daedric prince like Molag Bol, no.” He answered, sighing. “And we don’t exactly speak with Hircine directly, as we were more… Well, the transformation was given to us through someone else, not a direct contract.” 

“So I really am not a werewolf?” Eyja asked, and Kodlak smiled apologetically again.

“No you are not, lass.” He answered her now. “But I will need your oath, and to tell you what the Companions have been dealing with. I’d also prefer you do officially join so you can be tied to us that way.”

Eyja didn’t really  _ want _ to join the Companions, but it was a small price to pay to never have to deal with trying to become a werewolf again. “Fine, but I need you to know I have a lot on my plate. Dragonborn and all that.” She replied. “I won’t have a lot of time to be helping the people of Skyrim through the Companions when I am out hunting dragons and trying to find a way to stop the World Eater.” 

“So it’s true then?” He asked. “The World Eater has really awoken?” It had been a rumor once people saw dragons in the skies and heard that a dragonborn walked the lands again to slay them. When the dragonborn comes it is to stop Alduin after all, so it wasn’t that much more of a leap in logic to assume one of those dragon’s was the World Eater himself. 

“Yes,” She looked away, “He’s the one who’s been resurrecting the others.” That was news for Fengr as well it seemed, as he stared back at her with his brow furrowing in concern. “I am currently trying to track down an elder scroll. The leader of the Greybeards revealed that it was used to defeat Alduin in the past.” 

“What a mission you’re tasked with…” Kodlak seemed lost in his thoughts at that, staring at the floor for a few moments. After a few moments, he looked back up from the floor, face a bit more solemn. “For now take Fengr with you. He will be getting a task in Solitude, and you can head to Winterhold. In whatever order you feel is necessary.” It would be a slightly longer way but also She much preferred going up by Solitude than going around Windhelm. Windhelm’s climate was just so desolate and miserable, not to mention terrible from all the Stormcloaks crawling around it. The hills were too steep, or volcanic, and she had a bad relationship with the region after Alduin tackled her to the ground and mounted her there. “May the Divines give you strength, dragonborn, and know the Companions will be here should you need us.” 

Eyja nodded, and Kodlak turned to Fengr. “You have done a lot for us, brother. Do what you can to assist the dragonborn now. Fengr nodded as well, putting his hand on Eyja’s shoulder. 

—

After a less than fun shopping trip in Whiterun for some basic supplies, townsfolk looking at her often, Eyja submitted to getting her proper snow gear in Solitude. This time of year the snow wasn’t too dense up there, though it was cold as shit. The city was absolutely massive and it would be easy to find just what she was looking for, and maybe something not that ugly as well. She also got a visit when the temple of Kynareth sent over a priest to make sure she was well healed. 

She was still tired as all hell, but the additional healing was a good safeguard. It eased the tension from her body that built up while shopping exhausted, and hopefully the rest of her strength would return to her after a carriage ride. 

Rorikstead was where they would be heading first, staying in for the night, before making their way on foot to Dragon’s Bridge. She had insisted, and after a bit of convincing that a stray dragon might come to fight her and put the carriage driver in danger if they just rode all the way to Solitude, he had agreed reluctantly. It was nice to be riding through Whiterun at least, and she watched the landscape that passed them by, one leg propped up on the seat, while her brother sat across from her. Whiterun around this part was kind of flat—at least compared to the more mountainous regions of Skyrim. She could see across the large fields, rocks occasional jutting out. Game grazed on occasion in the valley on the green shoots springing up from the melting permafrost. 

It was nice. Or at least it was, until Fengr started talking.

“Alduin resurrects the dragons?”

“Oh,” She forgot she hadn’t really explained that to him. “Yes. I saw him doing it first at Kynesgrove, and they did all start coming back after he showed up.” 

“Was that when you first saw him?” 

“No, that would be… Helgen.” She sighed. “He’s the dragon that burned the whole thing to ground. He rained fire and stones from the sky, toppled some towers, and burned a lot of people.” Last she heard was some bandits had made their home there. It was a bit of a shame, Helgen was kind of a nice town. They made some nice mead that she would likely never get to taste again. 

“Why were you there?” She’d tried explaining this to him before, but he probably thought she was pulling his leg or he didn’t care about the details. It annoyed her, but so long as he didn’t yell at her that she was lying she was willing to tell him again. 

“I had attempted to leave Skyrim across the border into Bruma, and head down to Cyrodiil. I thought that’s where you headed. It made sense since it is the capital of the empire and all that.” He’d been to Cyrodiil for a short while before he made his way back home to Skyrim, and when he would on occasion tell her about it he remarked on it fondly. Vast fields of green that were uncommon in the cold climate further north, exotic ruins, the vast, circular city with the massive statue of Akatosh in it. The people were different, odd at times, but less gruff and inherently distrusting than Skyrim. Nords tended to be slow to trust unless you could prove your worth, after all. 

“And you were staying in Helgen?” 

“No,” She clarified. “I got caught at the border. Wrong place at the very wrong time.” She sighed. She hated the amount of bad luck it took for the  _ one _ day she decided to leave that Stormcloaks would be there. Why were they even at the border, if Ulfric fancied himself High King? He couldn’t have been thinking to leave. Unless he was going to meet someone from outside of Skyrim who would be assisting him… But that was getting away from the story, she’d file that away for thinking later. “Ulfric and his men were down near the border when they got caught. And unfortunately myself and another unlucky soul uninvolved were also ambushed by Imperial soldiers and marched up for a quick execution at Helgen.”

“They tried to  _ execute _ you?” Fengr looked aghast. “You aren’t even a Stormcloak—”

“Wrong place, wrong time.” She reminded him. “They were so eager to take Ulfric out they didn’t worry about legal trials or the like.” Normally she would have been kept in the dungeon and allowed to testify, or investigated. It probably wouldn’t have gotten her very far or meant much, as it was her word against Imperial troops that she was 100% not a Stormcloak sympathizer in any way, and her Imperial veteran brother was on Solstheim, but it would be something more. “They had my head on the chopping block right away when he landed. In a way, he accidentally saved my life, though I’m certain that scaly bastard regrets it.” Well, probably not, but Fengr didn’t know he was very much in lust with Eyja for reasons she did not understand. 

“ _ You _ were one of the first?” Fengr looked even more concerned, and Eyja was about to brush him off before he continued. “They had Ulfric, who committed the worst crime out of all of you, and didn’t even attempt to execute him?” That… Was a fair point. His troops or sympathizers could emerge at any time. Even if they assumed  _ all _ of them were guilty and they couldn’t bother risking a single ally escaping or delaying it so Ulfric couldn’t break out later, they should have been more careful to take Ulfric out  _ first _ . If he died there, his supporter would lack a clear figurehead and leader. 

“I…” Eyja was staring at the wood of the cart, mouth open and brows furrowed. “I don’t… Know why they didn’t do him first.” Only one man was officially executed before her, and the horse thief got shot and killed. Ulfric  _ should _ have been the man they had taken for execution first. 

“There is something fishy about the whole execution.” Fengr concluded. While Eyja nodded. From her pack she brought out a small leather bound journal.

“What’s that?” Fengr questioned as she began to look it over carefully. 

“Thalmor dossier.” She said, a bit hushed, in the event the carriage driver was listening, though he was humming to himself, unable to hear them well from the bumpy road and horse’s gallop. 

“Why do you have that?” Fengr questioned her, his voice also going hushed. 

“I had to break into the Thalmor embassy.” 

“That  _ was _ you?” He was convinced it was someone else entirely. He was a bit impressed she did so and lived, and a bit proud because he hated the Thalmor, but it was practically suicide to  _ attempt _ it. “Why would you do that?”

“I needed to check if they had any information on dragons. A uh, colleague told me she thought they might have some intel.” 

“‘Colleague’?” He made a sour face. “Eyja if you tell me you’re doing work for the thieves guild or worse I am going to have an early death…” 

“I am not,” She glared back at him. “She’s not involved with any sketchy guild, she used to work for the empire before the war. A Blade.” 

“A Blade?” Fengr knew good and well that the Thalmor were hunting them to extinction, given their loyalty to both the emperors and Talos. “Why was a Blade helping you with dragons?” 

“The Blades used to be dragon hunters, believe it or not.” She was still looking over the information on Ulfric once more, feeling uneasy. “Look, I’ll go into detail about that later, but look at this.” She handed him the part on Ulfric, and Fengr skimmed it over. As he read and the information sunk in, his expression grew darker and darker. 

“This is—” He looked up at her and then back down at the book. “This is real, right?” 

“Don’t see why they would have it locked deep in the embassy if it was a fake.” They hadn’t anticipated anyone going in covertly—or at least not anticipating they would  _ leave _ with any of the information alive. 

Fengr covered his mouth, before closing the book and handing it back to her. His face looked grim. 

“All of this—” He said after a few moments of painful silence. “All of the war…” The civil war as far as he had seen had been  _ brutal _ . Brothers killing brothers, injured soldiers flooding the temples, food and resources slim, and roads even less safe to travel on than before. The High King was dead, a fact that sent ripples through all of Skyrim’s and the Empire’s politics. Markarth’s recapture, the other cities and towns sometimes taken by threat of violence, every ounce of credibility Ulfric had achieved… Most of it was done with the Thalmor’s help. Without the Thamlor’s influence, this civil war would have likely never  _ occurred _ . “It’s just a ploy by the Thalmor…” 

“They want it to drain Skyrim and the empire of their resources,” Eyja added, solemn, “So that it will be easy to capture in the next war they launch.” 

Fengr’s blood ran cold, as images from the last war flashed before his eyes. The Thalmor hadn’t really surrendered. They had merely regrouped, and this whole treaty was just a tool to get what they wanted through underhanded methods. There would be another war, far more brutal than even the one before it, that they were hoping the empire stood no chance in anymore. 

His fists were clenched on the seat either side of him, and Eyja was quiet. He looked pained, but any attempts she made before to comfort him, back in the farmhouse right after he returned from war, had failed. If anything it only made it worse; Fengr was a proud nord man to a fault. Being open and honest with his feelings was a weakness for him. 

Their ride to Rorikstead was near silent after that, and when they climbed off the cart it was well into the night. The farmers had returned to their houses, while the best soil in Whiterun was filled with hearty fields of good looking vegetables. In the inn, Fengr went up and got them two rooms this time rather than a room with two beds. He likely wanted his privacy to process the information she’d dropped on him, and knew she was far too tired still to run off into the night and make it very far.

She took off her leather armor and climbed into bed, sighing deeply. It was likely the whole execution at Helgen was a farce. Someone had been on the Imperial side, and likely if Alduin hadn’t come and burnt the city to the ground, they were going to use it to deal damage to the army. In the end it still worked out in the favor somewhat—the borders remained shut which kept their influence strong and made supplies dwindle even further in the now war torn nation, but the Imperial troops looked much more competent given Ulfric escaped only because of a dragon’s attack in the eyes of many nords. 

Her thoughts drifted back to Alduin at Helgen. Did he know who she was when he attacked? Did he recognize that he saved her life? Despite everything, while her head laid on the chopping block and another man’s blood was under her neck, sticking to her skin, she was relieved when she saw his huge black wings. She had been terrified, locking eyes with the previous soldier’s severed head, the glazed over look in his eyes, and felt so,  _ so _ much regret for everything in life she hadn’t done yet. And Alduin had saved her life, even if he nearly killed her again a second time by burning the city to the ground. 

Her arm came up over her eyes, her heart still confused on what to feel for the dragon that continued to haunt her thoughts. But no matter how much she contemplated it, she couldn’t come up with an answer. 

—

They walked, albeit at a much slower pace than Eyja was used to, but she was thankful all the same. The ground beneath her feet was better than her butt falling asleep on a carriage as far as she was concerned, and it gave her more chances to poke around potential ruins and pick any useful looking plants she may come across. Fengr kept her from poking around any ruins and off most bandit paths, much to her annoyance, but they continued the slow trek up to Solitude. They camped, they ate, they killed a deer at one point, and they moved on.

Fengr still hadn’t said much to her, which unnerved and annoyed her, but she simply enjoyed the silence for what it was. At least he had moved on from outright denying that she was the dragonborn. 

They were only a couple of hours from Dragon’s Bridge when they saw someone approaching them on the road. It looked to be a singular man in robes, big pack on his back, and dark hair. He was stumbling slightly, clearly intoxicated, despite it not being that late yet. 

Fengr immediately began walking in front of her, protectively. She rolled her eyes; Eyja had encountered the occasional drunk before. If she could fight dragons, an intoxicated man was of little threat. 

What she hadn’t been anticipating was him to shout out to her first. 

“ _ Hey! _ ” He exclaimed, moving slightly faster towards the pair. “My  _ favorite _ drinking buddy!” As she heard his voice she realized who it was.

“ _ Sam! _ ” She hissed, angrily. She wasn’t sure  _ what all  _ had happened that night, but now fully sober, she knew he was sketchy. Whatever happened had led to her appearing in Alduin’s lair for real somehow, and she didn’t like that—divines, he didn’t even hand over the staff she won! 

He half stumbled and half jogged over, huge grin on his face and cheeks red from intoxication. Fengr looked at her suspiciously. 

“You  _ know _ him?”

“It’s a long story—” Far too long and awkward of a story to tell in full. “He challenged me to a drinking contest, and I didn’t even get the staff I was owed.” 

“I  _ was going _ to hand it off to you, but you disappeared on me!” He threw his hands in the air. “One minute I’m watching you, having the time of my life, and then I look away and you’re  _ gone. _ ” Had she just vanished all of a sudden while he was stumbling around drunk? If so,  _ how _ ? 

She opened her mouth to question him when he looked to the nord man by her side. “Aw, already found a new guy to go after?” He sounded disappointed. “And here I thought there was something special between you and Alduin.” Eyja’s cheeks flushed a dozen shades of bright red, and sparks flew from her fingertips. 

“ _ Sam! _ ” She all but shrieked, mortified beyond belief. “Do  _ not _ talk about that, especially  _ not _ in front of my  _ brother _ !” 

“Eyja what in the name of Talos is he talking about?” Fengr was somewhere between shell-shocked and furious, an expression she had never quite seen him make before.

“Oooooh.” His head went back as he gave a breathless chuckle, the stench of alcohol heavy on his breath. Seriously, why was he drunk right now? “So  _ this _ is your brother! Nice to have a face to put to the stories.” He drawled. “You are a bit of a shithead as she recounts it. Always telling her she’s not good at anything, then running off to who knows where…” His words were slurring. “But she’s  _ real  _ fun, just out here saving the world one dragon dick at a time.” 

Eyja actually screamed in horror as Fengr’s face went to full shock, draining of color. She shot sparks at the breton in a rage, face still red as a ripe tomato. “Just shut  _ up _ !” She cast it again, again, and one more time for good measure. If she was lucky the man would die instantly and she could brush off his ramblings as drunken nonsense. She would rather the ground open up and swallow her or murder an innocent man than spend one more second as he recounted her shame to  _ Fengr _ of all fucking people in Skyrim. Divines, he probably told half of Skyrim she had fucked Alduin! 

The breton, who just got hit a good number of times by the magic, remained standing. The light faded and Eyja was panting, as he turned to face her. She felt a twinge of fear as his grin only grew wider as he seemed entirely unphased. The air around them grew thick with tension and the hair on the back of her neck raised. Fengr seemed to notice as well, as he drew his hammer out. 

“C’mon, you shouldn’t attack your ol’ pal like that.” Suddenly, after speaking, his teeth seemed  _ much  _ sharper than a breton’s should be. He had sharp, jagged fangs in his mouth, and the scent of alcohol grew only stronger. “Let’s talk this out somewhere a little more  _ private _ .” As he spoke, a black void had surrounded the three of them in an instant. 

Every inch of Eyja was screaming that she was in danger. Fengr took a swing at the breton, who faded the instant the hammer would have connected. As he raised the hammer back up, the two quickly began  _ falling _ . 

Eyja shut her eyes tight and screamed, but before she could even finish it, she found herself jarringly standing someplace else. She hadn’t _landed_ per se, more so that it was like she hadn’t ever been falling in the first place. Her legs felt weak and her knees gave out from under her, while Fengr looked around in a panic.

“What in the name of oblivion is going on?!” A chuckle could be heard, along with the faint playing of music.

“Now you’re gettin’ it!” A drunk voice called out, as a daedra emerged before them. He was in full daedric armor, though some of it seemed to be hanging off him loosely, haphazardly put on. He had a full glass of something that  _ looked _ to be wine in his hands, though that could be up for debate. He had black hair slicked back and red markings on his face, giving the pair a toothy grin as he seemed to be walking on air effortlessly; below his feet appeared shadowy platforms that faded away the moment he stepped off them. Finally he made his way around them, and a luxurious chair began to emerge out of black fog, which he plopped himself down on comfortably, the liquid in his glass spilling slightly as he did so.

“The name is Sanguine.” He said simply, staring at the two. “And  _ you _ , dragonborn,” He stared Eyja down, “I want to know just how you managed to vanish from Alduin’s lair after I dropped you in there.” 


End file.
